


Pokémon Rewritten

by d_s_t_e



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternative Perspective, Emotional depth, Gen, Realism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-07-29 20:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 51,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_s_t_e/pseuds/d_s_t_e
Summary: What if the Pokémon anime had been written differently? What if, instead of staying ten forever, Ash started at thirteen and was allowed to experience real growth? What if his world and the characters in it had depth and realism beyond the scope of a children's tv show? And what if Ash's journey was told, not from his own limited perspective, but from the interweaving stories of the characters surrounding him? Because, as self-centered as he may be, Ash is about to learn that the Pokémon world does not actually revolve around him.Art in description byVanillaWindArt in chapters byRedPandaWorld





	1. Episode 1:1 - Pokémon, I Choose You!

Delia Ketchum wiped a tear from her eye as she gazed at the well-worn photo in her hands. The corners were torn and rounded and a crease ran partway through it on the lower right, but her eyes ignored these imperfections, not seeing the photograph but her clearest memories of the scene within it.

In the center, a young man in casual clothing beamed, his attention half-focused on the infant he held in his arms and half-focused on the camera, which meant that he was truly half-focused on the woman who stood behind it. Delia had taken this photograph herself on a warm spring day soon after their son's birth. It also happened to have been taken not long before that young father had left. Delia had not seen him since, but, when she looked into the eyes of the man in the photo, she felt as though her husband was smiling to her still.

Usually, this photograph was a reminder of the man that she had lost, but tonight she diverted her attention almost immediately to the tiny boy held in his arms: Ash. In the frozen scene the photograph contained, he was a baby with a wide smile and a shock of jet-black hair. Delia looked at the strong arms safely wrapped around him and at the pure innocence of his face. The baby in the photograph was unformed, with few desires other than survival instincts and the need to constantly be near to her, but, perhaps even then he held the germ of what was to come.

There he was with his father's tall brown eyes and, perhaps held deep within them even then, his father's irresistible vision. Just as Ash's father had found that he could not give up his dreams of becoming a Pokémon Master in order to raise a family, the son who had barely known him now seemed destined to follow the same inherited footsteps. Ash, like his father before him and his father before him, had what Delia's husband had referred to as "the dream".

Delia had always known that she could not hold him back from it forever, but tomorrow was finally the day. April 1st was the day on which Professor Samuel Oak held his annual Pokémon giveaway for the children who had come of age, and Ash had turned thirteen last May. Tomorrow, he would receive his first Pokémon and begin the same journey as nearly all children his age. Yet, unlike all the other children, Delia knew in her heart that Ash would not be coming back.

Delia stifled a sob, not wanting to wake her son and alert him to her sadness. She had always hidden this photograph from him so that he wouldn't know that, thirteen years later, she still cried when she looked at the face of her husband. She didn't want Ash to feel the bitterness of abandonment that she wrestled with constantly, and she didn't want him to see his father as nothing more than a man who had so deeply hurt the mother he loved. Ash had no memories of his father, and she didn't want the image he had to be forever stained. She had wanted him to love his father, but she hadn't realized that, by making her husband the hero of every childhood bedtime story, she was really sealing both of their destinies.

She was staring so intently into the innocent little face in the photograph that she started as she heard a voice coming from the bedroom down the hall.

"Yes, I am Ash, and, now that I'm thirteen, I can finally get my Pokémon license," he said, as if showing off for an invisible camera. "I will journey to gain the wisdom of Pokémon training, and I hereby declare to the Pokémon of the world – I will be a Pokémon Master!"

She could hear heavy footsteps, as though he had put on his tennis shoes inside the house and was practicing his moves. He was already so sure of himself, so confident that he would become the greatest Pokémon trainer in all the world that he believed entire camera crews must be watching this historic beginning. She had the thought that she didn't know what she was going to do with him until, stopping, she realized that she wouldn't be doing anything at all with him. Not after tomorrow.

Her face pulled back with the pain of that thought, but she reversed course quickly, knowing that she must focus on the situation in front of her. At least for tonight, she was still his mother, and she could certainly enforce his bedtime. She stood quickly, hiding the photo away in a small space between the kitchen cupboard and the wall.

Delia thrust open the door. "Ash! Get to bed!"

Ash, who had indeed been posing in his full travelling outfit with a Voltorb toy in his hand in place of the Poké Ball he would soon have, was startled out of his daydream all at once. The sharp reprimand sent him off-balance, and he crashed to the floor, the Voltorb flying from his hand.

Delia caught it neatly, using the force of the throw to ease it open and reveal the clock within. "It's eleven o'clock, and you should be asleep," she said, showing him the time.

Ash's face fell. He sat up partially, leaning forward onto the stuffed Snorlax Delia had given his for his third birthday. His elbows sank into its soft cream-colored stomach, and his hands pulled it towards his own stomach as if almost hugging it.

Delia softened. If Ash still had room in his heart for Snorey, surely there was a larger space reserved for her. Ash was like his father in nearly every way, including his ambition, but Delia had been sure of one thing while Ash was growing up: she had always raised her son to have the warmest heart.

"Well, if you can't sleep, you should at least get ready for tomorrow. Here, watch this."

Picking up the television remote, she changed the channel from a Pokémon battle Ash had been watching to an instructional video from Sam Oak. Ash immediately perked up at the images of the three starter Pokémon. He rose to a kneeling position, both hands subconsciously forming eager fists.

"Go to bed when this is done," Delia told him.

"All right, I'm going," Ash said, eyes still glued to the television set.

He was barely listening to her. She closed the door, walked back to the kitchen, and retrieved the photo from the temporary hiding place. She would have to trust that Ash would not be like his father. She sighed, both from the thought and from the image in the photograph. This was the last time that their little family had been together. She hadn't seen or spoken to her husband in thirteen years, and now she wondered if the three of them would ever be reunited again. She might go to her deathbed clutching this same photo of the last happy time.

But she had to stay positive, she reminded herself, both for Ash's sake and for her own. She forced herself to walk back to her bedroom so that she could safely remove the photo from her sight. As she slid it back into its hiding place – an envelope taped to the top of the drawer in her nightstand – she felt her sadness fading. Delia believed that it was good to feel sad when there was reason to be, but she also believed that it was only harmful to let your sadness consume you.

She listened to the low sound of the television playing in the next room and couldn't help but smile as she imagined the excitement that must be on Ash's face right now. She loved her son, and that meant that she wanted what was best for him, even if it took him far away from her. For Ash, this was not just an ambition. It was his passion. She knew that becoming a Pokémon trainer was the only thing that would ever make her son truly happy. She loved him, and so she would let him go. Just as she had done for the man who, even thirteen years later, she still loved.

Who knew? Maybe Ash would finally succeed where his father had not in all these years. If Ash truly did become the Pokémon Master he dreamed of being, maybe he would return to her in triumph. That was a day that she could only hope for.

***

The Dodrio that nested outside the Ketchum house slowly raised one of his three heads, squinting in the darkness of early morning. The sun had not yet risen, and Delia Ketchum was leaving for work. As she wheeled her bicycle out of their little shed and snapped on a pale pink helmet, he noticed that her usually neat ponytail was a little messy and her eyes were puffy.

He rested his head back down on the bed of his own feathery body, allowing himself just a little more sleep before the dawn wakeup call. He would make it extra loud this morning. He knew that Delia was upset about that little twerp of a son of hers, and it would bring him pleasure to make the kid leap out of bed in alarm.

Delia was nice, he thought as he drifted back towards sleep. She brought him leftover bread from the restaurant sometimes. Nothing old or stale, either. The good stuff. Bread she couldn't serve because some customer had sent it back to the kitchen uneaten. Humans had stupid health codes or something, but it was just bread that had been sitting on a plate for a while. Unless some snotty-nosed kid had sneezed on it or something, it was perfectly good for eating. And Delia wouldn't give him bread some kid had sneezed on...

He awoke just as the first rays of sun were striking earth, a little tired from the brief interruption of his sleep, but more than ready to begin his day. Standing up, he stretched his two long legs and three skinny necks and flew up to the curved roof of the house, which he knew was directly above the little twerp's bedroom. He could see almost the whole town from here: little houses scattered along a winding path, tucked in by trees and sloping contours of grass. Light was peeking over the eastern horizon.

He took a deep breath, opened all three of his long white beaks, and trumpeted out a call to raise the dead.

Chuckling from his center head, he lowered his right head towards the roof, tilted sideways to hear the panic erupting from inside. Hearing nothing, he stopped chuckling, frowned with all six of his eyes, and lowered his head still further so that the thin neck ran completely parallel to the curve of his feather body. All was quiet.

Narrowing his eyes still further, pulled up his right head, threw back all three heads, and let out another crow. Walking up to the very edge of the roof, he crouched down as low as his legs would allow and hung one head over the edge to look in the boy's window upside down.

The twerp was still asleep! Passed out on his back with the Poké Ball-patterned covers thrown all over the place and his alarm clock a mess of gears and wires on the floor, like he had actually thrown it against a wall.

The Dodrio pecked on the window, not with the strength of an attack, but loudly enough to resemble the knocking of a human hand. He cawed. No response.

Straightening back up, he ruffled his feathers haughtily. Well, human kids these days. The Dodrio had half a mind to break in through the window and teach the kid a thing or two about getting up when your mother wants you to, but Delia was nice and breaking her windows wasn't.

Let the kid sleep in. He would learn his lesson when he missed out on whatever it was that a human like him was supposed to do today. The Dodrio hoped it was something important.

***

While the Dodrio was trying unsuccessfully to rouse a sleeping Ash, sixteen year-old Gary Oak was finishing his breakfast. His bowl of oatmeal was only half eaten, and he poked at it with his spoon, wondering why he didn't seem to be hungry. He felt as though his stomach would burst with one more bite, and yet, when his father stepped into the dining room, he slid that one more spoonful straight into his mouth as though casually enjoying himself.

"So, Gary, are you prepared to make me proud?" his father asked.

"You know it." Gary flashed his best smile and stuck two fingers out into a "V" for the victory to come.

His father did not return the smile but nodded, which was even better. Gary knew that a solemn nod from his father was a sign of approval, and it was given to him only on the rare occasions when he had really earned it.

"I'm going to the Pokémon Lab right after breakfast," Gary said. "Not because I'm nervous like all those other kids. I already put the Charmander on reserve with Gramps, so I know I'll get the best. I'm just eager to get started!"

"Charmander is a Pokémon that will take you places," his father said. "Be sure to have it evolved by the time you get to Saffron. The President of Silph Co. has a particular fondness for Charmeleon."

Gary knew his father wanted him to build a solid network of business acquaintances across all the most important companies in the region and that this was the reason he had insisted that Gary finish business school before beginning his Pokémon journey. When Gary was thirteen, he hadn't wanted to be anything other than a Pokémon Master, but, now that he had graduated business school, he had a much more realistic sense of his potential – he saw no reason why couldn't become both a businessman and the greatest Pokémon trainer that had ever lived.

His father idled in the doorway. Gary watched, wondering if he had something more to say, then worrying that his father was waiting for him to say something more.

"Goodbye, Dad," he finally said, because there was nothing else that came into his mind.

His father nodded again, cleared his throat, and walked in the direction of the front door.

Gary set down his spoon, leaving the half-full bowl for the maid to clean, and stood, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. He had barely touched the Poké Ball-shaped key chain he kept them on when his hand shot back out of his pocket to clutch at his stomach.

He rushed into the bathroom, where he found himself very grateful that his father had left in time to avoid witnessing his retching. He didn't know how oatmeal could give a person food poisoning, but he was going to have a word with the cook the next time he saw him. Never mind that he would probably return here only at the end of his entire journey. He would remember.

He spent a few minutes more in the bathroom, restoring his dignity. For some reason, he found that it quieted his stomach to pretend that he was simply going out for a nice drive in the country around Pallet, and he continued to tell himself this lie until the antique convertible his father had bought him was pulling up in front of the large metal gates of his grandfather's Pokémon Lab.

The lab was a yellow building with a fuchsia-colored roof, raised above the road and the country surrounding by a small hill. Due to the natural contours of the land and the row of bushes running the length of the long white stairway, there was no wall here, only two red brick pillars holding the metal doors, which were already pushed open.

Suddenly aware that the Professor might be watching from the windows, Gary made an effort to step out of the car smoothly and make his way up the stairs with the style of a leisurely stroll as his driver pulled away. He noticed his hands shaking slightly, undoubtedly another symptom of food poisoning, and he slid them behind his back just as the wide front door opened.

"Oh, there you are, Gary." The gray-haired man blinked in surprise. "I expected you here much sooner."

"Well, I'm here now, and I'm ready to get that Charmander you promised me."

The Professor frowned as he stepped back from the doorway to allow Gary inside. "I never promised you a Charmander, Gary. I know you said you wanted one, but I made it perfectly clear that I give my Pokémon away to whichever new trainer claims them first."

Gary could not hide his expression of shock. "But I claimed him first!"

"Gary, if I allowed you to claim a Pokémon before the other trainers even have a chance, I would be giving you an unfair advantage."

"But I'm your grandson!"

"Gary, please shut the door behind you," the Professor said, tilting his head to look out over the hill.

So, the old man didn't want this conversation to be overheard, Gary realized. Taking this as a good sign, he closed the heavy wooden door and took a confident step forward. "Don't worry, Gramps, I won't tell anyone. We're family, and family members do each other favors."

The Professor folded his arms across his open white lab coat. "I suppose your father taught you that."

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

The Professor sighed and led him up a thin staircase covered in a lilac tile. The room they entered was covered with large squares of the same and contained huge metal contraptions whose purpose was totally unknown to Gary. One entire wall was covered in what looked like an antique supercomputer from the age in which they were built to take up entire rooms. A thin metal table held a set of beakers, a Bunsen burner, and a notebook open to a page of chemical formulas and pencil-drawn diagrams. In the center was a raised circular platform covered with a glass dome. Gary hurried over to it, and the dome split in half, each end receding into the rounded base.

The platform contained three little divots in a triangle formation, clearly resting places for the three starter Pokémon his Grandpa offered to beginning trainers, but only one of the three was currently holding a red and white Poké Ball.

"Does this mean that both Jenny and Ash have been here already?" Gary asked.

The Professor unfolded his arms. "You know, to tell you the truth, I have not seen Ash. I expected him to be the first to show up, not the last."

"Someone else has been here?"

"A very nice boy named Kyle. He recently moved to the Kanto region and didn't have the time to register with me properly."

"So you made an exception for him, but you won't make one for me?" Gary accused.

"It was only fair. Kyle's parents made the decision to move to a strange region, not him. I spoke with the Pokémon professor in Sinnoh, and he passed along all the proper paperwork."

Gary channeled his displeasure into an audible: "Hmph."

"I'm sure you'll like Kyle once you get to know him. A very nice young man. Did you know he's thinking about becoming a Pokémon researcher?"

Gary was liking the sound of this "Kyle" less and less. He was sure that being the Professor's grandson made him the favorite, but any kid who was actually interested in that boring research nonsense his gramps was always carrying on about could become a threat to that.

Still, that was a problem to be considered later. There was only one Poké Ball left, but there wasn't any problem as long as that Pokémon was Charmander. Doing his best to hide his embarrassing near-sightedness, Gary bent down to read the label. "Squirtle?"

He stepped back, repeating again with horror: "Squirtle?"

The Professor stepped forward and put a hand on his grandson's shoulder, speaking gently. "I've been trying to tell you that Kyle already chose the Charmander. And Jenny picked the Bulbasaur."  
Gary's mind was reeling. He had already told his father to expect a Charmander. He had made a boast of his planning and negotiating skills. And now to receive a Water type Pokémon, which his father so despised? Gary's knees felt weak.

The Professor walked him to a small desk chair, which he immediately sank into.

"Now, Gary, it's unbecoming to react like this. I can assure you that Squirtle is a perfectly fine Pokémon, one of my best, in fact."

While his grandfather went on and on, all Gary could think of was the fact that Gramps just didn't understand. He didn't understand that Gary couldn't walk back into his parent's house with a Squirtle, even a strong and healthy one. Gramps didn't understand the pressure.

As he sat in the chair, trying to regain his wits, he recalled one of his father's sayings: if you don't have what you want, find a way to get it. He slowly stood. Yes, he would find a way to get that Charmander if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Have you changed your mind?" the professor asked hopefully, but Gary's attention was distracted.

The blue desk chair Gary had been placed in was facing the laboratory windows on the side nearest the road. He hadn't had a clear view out until standing up, but, now that he was, Gary could see the figure of a boy sprinting all out in a set of ridiculous green and yellow pajamas and a pair of tennis shoes. Though it had been years since Gary had left Pallet Town for business school, he immediately recognized his childhood neighbor Ash Ketchum.

Gary had a question he did not dare to say out loud: if I take the last Pokémon, does that mean Ash will be left without one?

He turned to flash his most winning smile. "That's right, I have changed my mind."

Hoping that the professor's attention would remain diverted from the window, Gary strode rapidly to the raised platform and snatched up the final Poké Ball.

"Squirtle, I choose you!"


	2. Episode 1:2 - A Shocking Experience

Gary's breathing still hadn't quite steadied from the shock of receiving Squirtle as his starter Pokémon rather than the favored Charmander, but he was well-trained in playing it close to the chest. Making the right first impression was the key to any major business deal, and Gary knew that timing was crucial in order to win his play.

With a falsely confident stride and his new Poké Ball held high, Gary thrust open the front door of the Pokémon lab. At the bottom of the stairs, just outside the metal gates, students, friends, and supporters crowded, almost pushing each other aside to be able to see him. He had been expecting a few friends, but it seemed that his entire graduating class from business school had turned out to see him off.

As he descended the clean white steps, a line of cheerleaders in blue and white sent up a chant: "Gary, Gary, he's our man, if he can't do it, no one can!"

His heart thundered under the pressure of the unexpected crowd, but he only allowed his face to show a confident smirk. There was no way he could embarrass himself in front of them. He was Gary Oak, and he had to act as cool and important as everybody thought he was. All of his power and influence was centered on that image, even though he would never admit this to himself. He tried to never even think about it.

He had long ago learned that he could not exude the confidence that his father expected of him unless he truly believed that he was greater than the average. It was only when he fully embraced the compliments of his admirers that he gained the strong sense of security that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. If he ever found himself beginning to question whether he really was as cool as everyone was always telling him he was, like a draft of winter air nipping under the blanket's folds, he would find a way to make every person he knew tell him how wonderful he was all over again. And his ego, just like his image, was in need of constant maintenance.

Gary chose not to wonder how all of his friends had known exactly the right time to make their appearance. He didn't know that his father had paid the cheerleaders to perform their routines, nor that they had been paid extra to pretend as though they hadn't been. Several of the more important members of the crowd had also been "influenced" into attending, which had drawn the larger crowd of those who wished they could be popular.

The sight of the cheerleaders' bare legs kicking high in the short blue strips of their skirts made Gary sweat a bit as he pushed open the gates, but the tension was immediately broken when a familiar face burst straight through the line of girls, making them stumble and break off into gasps mid-sentence. Gary took the final step forward, and Ash crashed into him as if by accident. Gary had braced himself so that Ash thudded against his knees and chest painfully but did not threaten his perfect balance. Ash was the one sent toppling straight onto his back, thudding against the white concrete.

Ash Ketchum, the childhood neighbor he hadn't seen since moving to Celadon City for business school. At one time, the two of them had almost been friends, but his father had always heavily discouraged him from getting too close. Ash's father was a no-good loser who had spent the past twenty years of his life chasing a hopeless dream, and his mother only managed to scrape by because she had inherited the only restaurant in Pallet Town and refused to sell to anyone who could run it better. The Ketchums were beneath them.

Seeing thirteen year old Ash Ketchum sprawled on the ground below him, groaning in pain and wearing nothing but a pair of black and white tennis shoes and thin silk pajamas, Gary made the split second decision to pretend for all his Celadon City friends that he didn't even know this loser.

"Hey, watch where you're going," he said to kill some time while his brain spun up a believable lie. "Well, you must be Ash. Better late than never, I guess. At least you get the chance to meet me."

"Gary?" Ash asked, getting shakily to his feet.

Since Gary hadn't seen Ash hit his head during the fall, he guessed that Ash was confused by his changed appearance. It had been years now since they had last seen each other, and Gary was taller, stronger, and much more confident, which perhaps changed his appearance more than any other feature. He styled his hair longer and with a series of spikes, and he wore the green and yellow yin-yang necklace that had been a secret sixteenth birthday present from his mother.

"Mr. Gary to you," Gary cut in quickly, afraid that Ash would give away his lie by commenting on how different he looked. He had to keep control of this conversation. "Well, Ash, you snooze you lose, and you're way behind right from the start. I've got a Pokémon and you don't."

Just as he had known it would, this last sentence completely drove away whatever Ash had been about to say. Gary watched the boy's face change to an expression almost of horror at the suggestion of not being able to receive a Pokémon.

"You got your first Pokémon?" he asked with what Gary hoped was a hint of jealousy.

"That's right, loser, and it's right inside this Poké Ball," Gary bragged, spinning the Poké Ball on the tip of his finger. This was a move that he had secretly spent months practicing over and over again with an empty Poké Ball a friend with a Pokémon license had bought for him.

He swelled with pride as both the line and the trick brought new enthusiasm to the crowd of fans. Members of the football team gave hoots of laughter, freshman wannabes clapped their hands with shining eyes fixed on the spinning Poké Ball, and the cheerleaders spontaneously began their chant anew.

Gary raised both arms high in the air. "Thank you, fans! Thank you all for this great honor! I promise you that I will become a Pokémon Master and make the town of Pallet known all around the world!"

The crowd burst into cheers, not because the words were particularly clever but because Gary Oak had said them. Any other person would have been accused of laying it on too thick, but Gary Oak could make a promise like that. Gary Oak could do anything.

Unfortunately, the excitement of the crowd somehow infected Ash as well. Gary frowned in confusion as, far from shrinking away from Gary's taunts and the crowd's mockery, the boy who would be receiving nothing and was visibly wearing his own embarrassment shared what appeared to be a genuine smile.

"What kind of Pokémon is it?" Ash asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

The question socked him right in the gut, and he lowered his arms without thinking. "None of your business," he snapped.

All too quickly, he knew that this was out of character. He should be bragging about his Pokémon. His bright and shiny new Charmander, the greatest in the world, right here inside this Poké Ball from which he would it call out to be admired. But he didn't have a Charmander, and he still didn't know how he was going to play this with his father.

Conjuring up another lie, he smirked and gave a knowing wink. "If you'd showed up on time, you would have seen that I got the best Pokémon. It's good to have a grandfather in the Pokémon business, isn't it?"

He was starting to sweat so much he feared it would come soaking through the armpits of his shirt. Before Ash could dig him even deeper into the web of lies, he hopped into the back of the antique red convertible his driver had waiting for him. This was the part of the plan that had been prearranged. If anyone here noticed that he was three years too old to be starting a Pokémon journey, this would remind them all just how cool it was to be sixteen.

Instead of settling into one of the seats, he perched on the back like a rider in an old parade and waved to his adoring fans one last time as the driver pulled away slowly. "Thank you for coming out to see history in the making. Now I, Gary Oak, am off to learn the ways of the Pokémon trainer!"

Sam Oak had come out of the lab just in time to see this unfortunate bit of grandstanding. He stopped a pace behind Ash, watching as the boy curled up both his fists and let out an angry growl: "I'll show you!"

He looked Ash up and down, noting the long black hair uncombed and sticking out in all directions, the silky smooth fabric of the pajamas he was wearing from head to knee, and the tennis shoes crammed on without any socks underneath.

"So," he said, "you decided to show up after all."

Ash jumped with surprise, spun around, and forced a toothy grin. "Oh, Professor Oak! Where's my Pokémon?"

"Your Pokémon?" Sam wondered if he had misjudged the boy. Ash seemed to be displaying a sense of entitlement to rival even Gary's.

"Yes, I'm ready," Ash said.

"You look like you're ready for bed, not Pokémon training."

Ash flushed bright red. "I'm sorry, Professor. I got messed up this morning, and I was a little late, but, believe me, I'm ready for a Pokémon."

Sam could both see and hear the boy's passion in the final portion of this sentence. Whatever it was that had made him late, it was neither laziness nor apathy. For Delia's sake if nothing else, he was prepared to give the boy a chance, but he still deserved a lesson for his carelessness.

"Please can I come in?" Ash begged.

Sam shrugged. "Alright."

He led the boy up the stairs and into the room that Gary had just left.

Ash immediately ran up to the raised platform where the starter Pokémon had been stored, but he turned back to look at the professor just as quickly.

"Where are all the Pokémon?" he asked. "I saw them all in here on the documentary last night, but I guess that's just for show, huh?"

"Ash, Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle have all been taken by other trainers who were here on time."

Ash's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Gary told me, but I... I couldn't believe it." His lower lip quivered. "Does that mean all the Pokémon are gone?"

Sam couldn't help softening. The boy had learned his lesson, and it would be cruel to draw things out any longer. Of course he had devised an alternate plan as soon as he had known that a fourth trainer would be coming to his lab today. Actually, he had been hoping that Ash would be the one.

"Well, there is still one left," Sam admitted, "but I—"

Ash cut him off with a gasp of pure excitement. "Professor, I'll take it!"

Sam let out a smile. This boy had enthusiasm, energy, and great willingness. If any thirteen year old could prove worthy of this Pokémon's friendship and trust, Ash had the greatest chance of any he had ever met. He stepped up to the circular platform, pressed a button to raise the fourth Poké Ball from beneath the surface, and reached out for it with his own hand.

"I think I should warn you, there is a problem with this last one," he said, running his fingers nervously along the curved red surface.

"I have to have a Pokémon," Ash replied strongly, just as Sam had hoped he would.

"Well, in that case..." he handed the Poké Ball to Ash, who immediately threw it.

Sam noted that Ash didn't stop to wonder why the fingerprint detectors on the Poké Ball's surface hadn't activated, or, for that matter, why he had been able to handle the Poké Ball without causing it to register to himself rather than to Ash. Ash hadn't even stopped to consider the warning he had been given or to ask what Pokémon would greet him once he threw it out. All sense of caution thrown to the wind, he just did it.

***

The last thing that Pikachu remembered was the feeling of the Poké Ball sucking him inside. It was nothing like what other Pokémon had described to him in recounting their heroic tales of escape.

A female named Chukapi, barely older than he was, had told him long ago that she had been sucked inside a Poké Ball after a "play fight" with a novice trainer. She had described the out-of-body feeling of having every cell in your body converted into pure energy, the shock of being pulled into a system of internal wires, so strong that it nearly compelled her to fight and rebel against every part of the machine that sought to imprison her. As nothing but a bundle of energy, she overloaded the system, rocked the ball to its very core, and burst free of it.

Pikachu felt same sensations – the out-of-body sensation, the shock of touching wires, the compulsive need to fight – the difference was that he found himself completely unable to do so. He surged and sparked with every bit of force he had, but nothing was affected by it. He wanted to twist and push but could not do so without a body.

None of this had been the way it was supposed to be. He had never wanted to be captured. He had never even taken part in battle with a trainer's Pokémon. He had been sitting by a riverside, just bending down to take a drink, and the rippled reflection of a human had been mirrored in the water. There was no greeting or battle cry, no warning and no fight, just the sound of a Poké Ball popping open and the sight of that pale, distorted face with thick brown hair.

Pikachu felt the sense of himself fading away among the wires, reminiscent of drifting off to sleep, and he thrashed out one final act of desperation. Though he had no physical cheek pouches from which to call the electricity forth, he knew the power had been stored inside his body and must be with him as a form of energy even now. Though it was impossible, he pushed out one last Thundershock attack.

Suddenly, impossibly, his sense of body was returning. He felt his thin hind feet standing on a cold floor. He felt the rest of his body slowly materializing. Most of all, though, he felt that Thundershock attack surging out from him in all directions. And he heard two humans screaming.

Two humans? He cut off the stream of electricity immediately, thankful that the powerful attack had not been focused. Too much electricity could cause serious injury in humans, and, for all he knew, one of these two might be here to rescue him.

His feet had told him the truth of the matter from the first. He was no longer crouching beside a river in the forest. He was inside a human building filled with metallic machines that most likely weren't supposed to be sparking and buzzing like that. Two humans, one old and grayish and one short with crazy black hair, stood with hands and fingers twitching, but Pikachu knew that most of his unfocused electricity had been drawn away from them by the metal. He knew that he had broken these machines, but he did not feel sorry. He also knew that he had spent an unknown amount of time in forced hibernation within that evil Poké Ball, and having smashed some inanimate objects satisfied a portion of his rage.

"Pikachu," he growled, turning his head to search for the brown-haired one who had imprisoned him.

"Oh!" he heard black-haired one exclaim. "It's so cute it's the best of all!"

A pair of human hands wrapped around him, and he felt his feet lifted from the floor. He reacted instantly.

"Pika. Chuuuu!" The final syllable was prolonged as he pushed out yet more electricity, this time aimed directly at the human. He had not asked this boy to touch him. He did not like being lifted up and dragged around without warning or introduction or any sense of common courtesy. Simply because he was smaller than a human and could easily be lifted by one did not mean that he was a pet or a plaything or anything less than an equal being of independent will who was deserving of the same respect that would be shown to a human.

Pikachu had many lessons to give out today, and this bit of negative reinforcement was the first. He wasn't pushing out enough electricity to hurt the human, simply enough to give a painful jolt that would make him think twice before manhandling him again.

To his surprise, however, the boy did not throw him as far away as possible as soon as he was able. In fact, when the shock was over, the boy still insisted upon holding him in his arms.

"I just wanted to give you a hug, Pikachu," he said, his voice sounding hurt.

Pikachu found himself set back gently on the floor and was too shocked to do anything but stare.

"Yes, I can see you'll do just fine with this one," the other human said. "Here are your Pokédex and Poké Balls. Now, this Pokédex..."

Pikachu stopped listening to the man ramble on. "You'll do just fine with this one"? He was being given away? Like property? He felt the realization like a physical blow, keeling over on his side from the pain of it.

"No," he thought. "I'm just as good as either one of them. I can think and feel and speak my mind. I have dreams and hopes and vision. I have friends and a family and my own unique individuality. I am their equal."

The black-haired one noticed him writing on the ground in pain. "Pikachu, are you ok?"

Pikachu fixed a look of purest hatred on the boy who would lay waste to all of his intrinsic worth, thinking: "You are Grimer filth. You will never break me down or force me to submit, and I will escape from you if it is the last thing I ever do."


	3. Episode 1:3 - The Evil Poké Ball

Delia set down her spatula and took a deep breath. The Pallet House restaurant was finally pulling out of its morning rush. She still had three eggs, five sausages, and a mess of hash browns sizzling, but, for the first time all morning, she could stop and catch her breath. It wasn't usually this busy, but families from all over Kanto had come into Pallet Town today to see off Jenny, Gary, and Ash.

Ash... She looked at the clock on the wall for the first time in hours, and a sense of panic gripped her. She dashed two steps towards the dining area, screeched around to flip the eggs before they had a chance to burn, and rushed out again.

"Diego, have you heard anything from Ash?" she asked, wringing her greasy hands.

Diego shook his head. "I haven't seen him, and the only calls have been from people making reservations."

"But that can't be. Ash would never break his promise."

"I'm sure he's fine, Mrs. Ketchum," Diego said, but Delia was already convinced of the exact opposite.

She pictured Ash lying in a broken heap by the side of the road, unable to call for help. Pallet Town was so large and rustic and sparsely populated that some back roads might not see another passerby for hours.

"We have to find him," she said. "Close the restaurant and..."

"Mrs. Ketchum, I'm sure he just forgot," Diego said. "You know how kids get so excited about their first Pokémon journeys. Everything else just slips their mind."

No, Ash wouldn't have forgotten. She knew her son, and he never forgot a promise. He was a boy of his word, intensely so. As a child of no more than six, he had cried over returning a single library book on time when she'd been too busy cooking dinner to take him.

"I promised," he had sobbed, clutching the borrowed picture book. "The library lady made me promise. We hafta go before they close."

And yet, Delia realized, her son had shown just as much intensity when it came to Pokémon. She remembered his father's eyes, and a second picture presented itself to her. She pictured her son running straight past the door of Pallet House with a Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle by his side, eyes burning in the grip of that insatiable dream. Ash had chosen not to say goodbye to her.

Closing her eyes, she slumped back against the wall, not caring that the rough wallpaper was rumpling her ponytail.

"Mrs. Ketchum?" Diego asked with concern.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, an internal timer rang. The habits of her work were so ingrained that she couldn't help feeling the sudden need to attend to the food frying in the kitchen. "The hash browns," she murmured.

"I'll take over the kitchen for a while. Here." She felt Diego take her hand. "Please, sit down."

He led her to one of the chairs near the door that they used for overflow customers waiting for an open table. She sat down on the woven straw seat and repeated, "the hash browns are going to burn."

"Right away." Diego nodded and took off for the kitchen.

Delia buried her head in her hands and burst into tears. Though she had prepared herself as best she could for her son to leave her behind forever, having the small event of their final parting torn from her was nearly unbearable. It was only a few minutes, an exchange of simple words that were unoriginal and utterly predictable, and yet it had meant everything to her. She had been counting on those final minutes, and now the rug was pulled from under her. She was left with nothing.

With only one table waiting to be served, she knew that the restaurant was quiet enough for her sobs to be heard by at least half of her clientele, but, since Pallet Town was small enough for everyone to know her business, she didn't feel any motivation to hide it. If they didn't know already, they would find out soon enough anyway.

"Delia?" The voice of Sam Oak was gentle and quivering with sympathy.

She gasped and looked up, her first impression of Ash's disappearance reasserting itself in light of this new evidence. Sam must have come here for a reason.

"Has something happened to Ash?" she asked, searching his wrinkled face for clues.

"No, no, nothing of the kind," he assured her. "But your son did ask me to come here personally to explain why he was unable to keep his promise."

She sniffed.

Sam eased into the chair next to her. He frowned, casting his eyes to the side as though he felt guilty about something. "You see, Delia, I gave your son a very... special Pokémon to raise."

"Special?" Delia, whose tears had been drying ever since learning that Ash was neither injured nor unfeeling, was able to say the word quite clearly and even with a note of suspicion.

Sam put his wrinkled hands into his lap and began playing with his fingers. "You know that distributors of beginning Pokémon regularly receive specially bred 'starter' Pokémon. They are born and raised in the care of humans and are both very friendly and of very rare species, making them ideally suited for the novice trainer."

"Yes." Delia wondered why the professor was stalling for time by telling her things she already knew.

"What most people aren't aware of is the fact that, due to my ongoing Pokédex project, my status as a Pokémon professor, my position as a Pokémon distributor, and my possession of a research lab that doubles as a home for the extra Pokémon belonging to my dex holders, our government has named me as a special sort of Pokémon custodian."

"Meaning?"

"When a trainer in possession of a Pokémon dies, his Poké Balls must be unlocked by a professor or another person certified in Poké Ball mechanics. Usually, they are then passed on to the trainer's family. However, in very rare cases, there is no next of kin to be found."

"And, as a special custodian, those Poké Balls are sent to you?"

"Correct." Sam nodded. "I can unlock the Poké Balls, provide the creatures inside with a temporary home, and study, release, or pass them on as the situation warrants."

"You gave one of these Poké Balls to Ash," Delia guessed, narrowing her eyes.

Sam took a very keen interest in his hands. "Yes."

"And why did that prevent him from coming to say goodbye to me?" She could hear the note of anger that seeped into her voice.

"The Poké Ball that I gave to Ash was not an ordinary Poké Ball," Sam explained, looking up sheepishly. "I knew it from the first time I opened it. I was attempting to perform the standard procedure to override the fingerprint registration of its previous owner, but, once I got a good look at the wires and circuit boards, I didn't dare to touch a thing. It had no fingerprint detectors."

Delia gasped.

"Its circuitry was completely foreign to me, so I closed it back up and scanned the energy signature of the Pokémon inside using a modified version of a standard Pokémon Center healing machine. It was an ordinary Pikachu, low level, perfect for redistribution to a novice trainer, except..."

"Except what?" The angry undertone was back.

"Except that it seemed to be unusually angry. I hypothesized that the non-standard Poké Ball might have something to do with it, but—"

"You gave my son an 'unusually angry' electric type Pokémon that was captured in the wild and once belonged to a trainer who is now dead?"

"And it, uh, seemed unusually given to using its attacks on people."

Delia stood up from her chair. "You gave my son a dangerous Pokémon?"

The few heads remaining in the restaurant turned to stare. Sam rose from his chair also. "Delia, please, sit down. Ash is perfectly safe, I assure you. The electrical shocks are more of a mild annoyance."

"A mild annoyance? A fully charged Thunderbolt attack can kill a person!"

"This Pikachu would not seriously harm anyone. Ash was only concerned about upsetting the customers."

"And why didn't he put it back inside its Poké Ball then?" she demanded. "Why doesn't he keep it locked away until it learns to behave itself?"

"It..." Professor Oak sighed, moving his hand up to his head to massage his temples. "It refused return to it."

***

Pikachu remembered the encounter with a smug sense of satisfaction. That Poké Ball, the evil thing that had kidnapped and entrapped him, was not so strong anymore.

He had been afraid of it, terrified in fact. The very moment that black-haired boy made a grab for it, every hair along his body stood on end. This boy was connected to the Poké Ball, and that meant that as soon as the little white button faced Pikachu while he was holding it, the whole nightmare of enslavement would be repeated.

Pikachu's eyes locked on the red and white object's slow turn until a cold sweat broke out from head to tail tip and his eyes closed with a flinch. He was frozen from the fear and hopelessness, unaware of anything outside of them until time ticked by and he realized he was still corporeal. His eyes flicked open with automatic curiosity just in time to see the boy frown and throw the Poké Ball at his head.

Pikachu's brows furrowed in anger at the stupidity and useless cruelty of the act. It couldn't fail to do anything more than strike him. The boy might as well have thrown a rock. Instead of dodging, Pikachu brought his forehead up to meet the evil Poké Ball, delivering a wicked head butt that made his skull rattle. He would have a headache for hours afterwards, but it was worth it just to see the shock on that boy's face as the actually heavy metal object gave him a nasty bruise on the leg.

Pikachu's terror shrank away to be replaced by righteous anger and a growing sense of power. Evil as it was, that Poké Ball could not hold him. It was not, after all, so much more than an ordinary Poké Ball, for it has always been the greatest secret of wild Pokémon that a Poké Ball physically cannot contain a Pokémon whose will is utterly opposed to that containment. The conventional wisdom that Pikachu's parents had whispered in his ear from childhood was that a wild Pokémon who does not want to be caught cannot be caught.

The evil Poké Ball had broken that promise, and yet it seemed that it only had power enough to overcome a Pokémon's will once. Though he had been captured, it seemed that Pikachu now had the right that was denied during that initial encounter, his right to freedom. He could refuse to enter that Poké Ball, and he vowed, in that very moment, that he would never see the inside of one again for as long as he lived.

Unfortunately, there were other ways of being taken against his will. At this very moment, Pikachu was being dragged along a dirty path at the end of a clothesline wrapped three times and knotted firmly around his torso. The tight, thin cords dug into the flesh of his back and his tiny yellow feet were scraped and burned by friction. There were tears in his eyes, and yet he refused to cry out from the pain. His resistance would win out, but until that time he must stay strong.

To remove himself from the pain and humiliation of the moment, he imagined a world inside his head where the human boy would understand every word he said.

"You don't understand, do you?" he accused the boy. "You think I am your slave. Worse still, you don't see anything wrong with that. It's just the way of the world to you. You are human and I am Pokémon. Just a Pokémon. Pokémon are not the same as humans to you. Pokémon are meant to be captured and collected and used by whoever 'owns' them. Pokémon are meant to serve humans, to be lower than them.

"You think that this is natural, but you only think this because you have been taught to think it. You have looked all around yourself from the time of your very infancy and have seen these things taking place at the hands of those you know and love, the hands of those who are good to you, and so it is normal and so you think these things must be. You may even think that we Pokémon enjoy our lot. You have never once stopped to consider this afresh, to throw aside your inborn biases and truly think about the things that you are doing.

"You see me as a Pokémon, as something like a beast. I say I am equal to you. Throw away your biases. Imagine me as human. Imagine me as you.

"Imagine yourself standing in the kitchen of your home, holding a glass up to a faucet of cold running water. You are at home, in a place of safety, looking only to quench your thirst. I'm sure you can't imagine anything that's like a Poké Ball, so let us skip ahead. Imagine that a rope is thrown around your waist, wrapped three times around and knotted tight so that it can't squeeze past your upraised arms or down below your hips. Imagine the feeling of that rope when it is roughly yanked, the fear and confusion and humiliation of being dragged from your own home and out into the streets, past the faces of every person that you know, all of whom are powerless to help you and many of whom cry to see you separated from them forever. Imagine the humiliation of being forced onto your knees to serve the one who did this to you. Then dare to tell me that I am in my place."

Pikachu would have continued mentally berating the black haired boy for a long while if that same boy had not come to a sudden stop.

Looking back, he said, "Pikachu, are you going to be like this the whole way?"

"Pi," he replied shortly, closing his eyes so that the boy would not see the water in them.

"Is it because you don't like me?"

Pikachu growled.

"Well, I like you. Even if you do growl at me and electrocute me and refuse to go inside your Poké Ball. You're my Pokémon, and I've been waiting a long time to meet you. I was so excited for this day. I don't understand why you're being like this." He pulled out the little red device the gray haired human had given him. "Even the Pokédex agrees that Pokémon belong inside their Poké Balls."

He flipped open the cover to reveal a square screen outlined in white plastic with an array of buttons on the opposite side. Pikachu watched warily, unsure what this device was capable of. It didn't look like an instrument of torture, but one could never be sure. The boy was still holding firmly to the end of the clothesline with the pink rubber gloves he thought would protect him from electric shocks, so it wasn't possible for Pikachu to run.

Correction: it wasn't possible for Pikachu to run without delivering an electric shock large enough to incapacitate the boy. Pikachu knew perfectly well that rubber gloves would absorb any electricity directed at them, but they could not attract electricity away from its intended target. If Pikachu chose to aim a Thundershock at the boy's head, the effect would spread throughout the body and even into those hands, which would be unable to grip the thin thread of a clothesline while spasming.

Pikachu could do this easily, but it would risk permanent injury to the boy. Pikachu was angry and hurt and many would have said that his conditions and prospects were terrible enough to render such a punishment well-deserved, but he wasn't truly seeking vengeance. He wanted his freedom, which was good and right. He did not want to cause unnecessary pain, which would add to the pain of the whole world for the triumph of evil. In a case of life or death it could be justified as self-defense, but this was not yet the case. Not unless this "Pokédex" would change matters for the worse.

"Dexter, do Pokémon belong inside of Poké Balls?" the black haired boy asked, holding the device near his mouth.

A large blue light atop the device blinked, and a mechanical voice responded, "While being trained, a Pokémon usually stays inside its Poké Ball."

The black haired boy grinned. "You see?"

"However, there are many exceptions. Some Pokémon hate being confined."

The boy's face fell. "Is that really true?" His face scrunched up. Pikachu wondered whether he was thinking about something unpleasant or whether he was so stupid that the act of thinking itself was unpleasant for him. The boy's eyes traced from the white cord in his hand to the one tied around Pikachu's waist. "Confined..." He sat down in the middle of the path, the end of the clothesline dropping from his hand.

Pikachu's eyes widened, and he froze in place. The end of the cord lay perfectly still on the brown dirt road, with inches of beautiful empty space between itself and the hand that had once grasped it. Pikachu longed to dart away at once, imagined that unattended cord zipping away, a hand reaching out to grab it far too late, but his instincts screamed that this was all a trap. The boy was testing him, trying to teach a lesson in disobedience. If he made one wrong move, there would be pain, even more of it than he had so far felt.

"Ok then," the human said finally.

He reached out his hands and found the knot at Pikachu's chest. The boy's fingers brushed against his delicate stomach fur and simultaneously yanked at the knot. Pikachu cried out, the first tears leaking now, and the boy's hands stopped.

"Pikachu?"

Pikachu shuddered, and the red line of welt hidden below his stomach fur touched the human's fingers. The boy's eyes widened, and he reached into the pocket of his blue jeans.

Pikachu's eyes only caught the blade as it snapped out of the pocketknife and glinted in the sunlight. He cried in terror, then in redoubled pain as his instinctive struggle to escape pressed the bonds still tighter. He was truly wild now, in terror of the human weapon that could gut him like a fish. His thoughts were nothing more than panicked cries, his actions purely instinct. His cheek pouches tingled with the surge of a powerful electric charge.

He heard a sudden snap, and he tumbled to the ground. The slam of impact made him discharge, sending every volt of his defenses down into the hungry earth.

He jumped to all four feet but landed on a pebble that wedged into the most sensitive sore on his hind left foot.

"Chu!" He stumbled, and human hands caught him fast around the middle, smooth hairless thumbs squeezing the air from his chest. It didn't register to him that the human had removed his gloves or that he no longer felt the cord around his stomach. He struggled blindly, kicking out with hind legs and forepaws. He tilted down his head to find a place to bite, only to find that he could not reach.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Pikachu," the human said shakily. "I really didn't think. I..." His lips trembled, water poured from his eyes, and his voice let out a sob. "It's no wonder you hate me."

The human adjusted to grip him with one hand, which removed one thumb and moved the other from his chest down to his stomach. Pikachu gulped in air as the human fished around the pocket of the green pack that he carried and emerged with a small glass spray bottle of purplish liquid.

The one hand that held him was growing slick with sweat. Pikachu kicked and twisted, and the fingers slipped.

"Hold still, Pikachu." The boy pushed his back into the ground and sprayed the liquid all over his stomach. It was freezing cold and thick like slush. Pikachu felt a painful sting, and he struck out with his teeth again. The bite connected with a hand that was repositioning itself, and his pointed teeth sank into soft flesh. Drops of metallic-tasting blood splattered as the human pulled his hand back with a cry. Glass shattered, and purple liquid spilled across the dirt.

Pikachu rolled onto his stomach, hoping for the poison to scrape off. He pushed his body up on all four feet, not noticing the sting against his stomach reducing to a tingle. With every step he took, the pain in his hind feet was renewed, and its intensity was so great that the sudden absence of pain on the surface of his stomach went completely unnoticed. The human was shouting, and he was running for his life.


	4. Episode 1:4 - Aspeara

The dirt road was set into a rut along the flowing countryside. The land beyond was flowing and grassy, with scattered rocks and large patches of lightly tanned dirt. Pikachu leapt out of the rut, his eyes darting back and forth among the scattered tufts of grass.

His inability to find any familiar landmark highlighted his sense of panic. He had never been outside his forest before. From the time of his birth, he had been learning every rock, tree, and hill of the place where he belonged, and now the sight of every strange new plant sent a shiver through him. He was a stranger here, with no idea which way to run.

He winced again from the pain in his hind feet, heard behind him the familiar cry of "Pikachu, wait!", and made a sharp turn towards the nearest tree. He sank his claws into the bark and skittered up with all the speed of a Pachirisu.

The lowest hanging branch was thick and nearly horizontal, high enough from the ground to fend off human teenagers, and as good a place as any to rest his aching feet and wash away the purple goo the human had sprayed all over him. Pikachu was convinced that it was poisonous, perhaps some bottled form of Grimer sludge. The longer he left it on, the more it would eat away at him, burning holes through his fur and straight on through his flesh.

He sat on the end of the branch nearest the trunk, dangling one hind leg down on either side. He wrapped his tail underneath the branch for added stability and looked down to survey the damage. His stomach was the weakest and most sensitive part of his body. To hurt any Pikachu there was hitting far below the belt. He shuddered at the memory of the human's fingers brushing against the thick red welt.

"Pikachu!" The black-haired boy ran up to the tree and placed a hand on it as he stopped to catch his breath. "You didn't let me finish."

"Finish what?" Pikachu wondered. "Finish burning a hole through my stomach with your acid?"

He used his front right claw to scrape a long strip of bark off the tree branch and very slowly scraped away the purple liquid from his stomach. He was surprised when it didn't hiss and burn on contact, and he realized that he hadn't felt the liquid stinging on his stomach for quite a while. He was puzzled by this, but continued scraping, hesitating before the area of the welt. He moved his paw as gently as he could but, to his surprise, the bark continued moving smoothly across yellow fur and unblemished skin. He tilted his head down as far as it would go. The welt on his stomach had disappeared.

"I was trying to heal you," the boy said from below, "but now you made me drop the potion. That was the only one I had."

Pikachu didn't know what a potion was. He put the end of the bark he had been holding in between his teeth, very careful not to let the purple goo touch his lips, and dug the claws of his front paws deep into the branch he was resting on. Then, he unwound his tail and gently touched his back. The welt was there, running straight across where the clothesline had touched it and the purple goo had not.

"I'm sorry, Pikachu. I'm so sorry for hurting you. I really didn't know the clothesline would hurt you like that."

Pikachu stared down at the red and white baseball cap that was all that he could see of the boy. He didn't understand. The boy had tied him up and dragged him here. He didn't care about Pikachu's well-being. He just wanted to use him.

Pikachu removed the bark from his mouth and held it in his paw again. The fact was that the purple substance was the only thing that could have healed his stomach. And the boy had removed the clothesline from him. Perhaps the boy didn't want to be in possession of "damaged goods"? It was conceivable that he didn't want to permanently injure the only Pokémon he had to use. With medicine so excellent, he could beat his Pokémon at any time and have them back at full health and prepared for battle within seconds.

Pikachu was not about to let himself fall victim to such a cycle, but he would make use of the medicine now that he had it. He lifted his left hind leg just slightly and touched it with the gooey end of the bark. He hissed in pain, just barely managing to keep his hold on the bark. This time, though, he noticed the sting fade into a tingling sensation, and then fade away to nothing. He applied the bark to his other foot and carefully raised himself onto the branch. Both hind feet touched down a little slippery from the goo but otherwise as good as new.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," the boy said. "I guess... I guess I didn't really explain to you what I was doing, did I?"

"Pi," Pikachu responded crossly.

The red brim of the hat tipped down, as if the human was looking at the ground. "I guess I forgot that you can understand me. You know, because you can't talk to me."

"Pi?" Pikachu asked incredulously. This was the most bizarre thing that he had ever heard. The ability to understand human language and the ability to speak it were two completely separate things. Besides the fact that a human couldn't possibly expect a human-language answer, he saw no reason in the world why a human shouldn't talk to a Pokémon in the exact same manner as to any other human.

"Um." The boy paused. "Maybe we started off on the wrong foot."

Pikachu snorted. Maybe? He applied the bark to his back, almost welcoming the accompanying sting, and let the bark fall to the ground beside the human. He didn't seem to notice.

"Well, my name is Ash," he said. "And I really, really want to become the world's greatest Pokémon Master." He turned his face up to meet Pikachu in the eyes. "And that's why I need you. I'm really sorry for everything that's happened, but I promise to do better from now on."

Pikachu didn't believe him. He couldn't tell if the boy was devilishly cunning or simply unintelligent and careless, but he had no intention of allowing himself to be captured all over again. Even if Ash intended to treat him comparatively well, that "comparatively" was still a problem. If Ash was telling the truth, he would be treated fairly well... for a Pokémon enslaved to serve his "owner". Pikachu did not want to "belong" to anyone. He did not want to be a possession. And he still did not believe that he could trust a human, empty promises or not.

The fact remained that Ash had hurt him, whether or not he had intended to. A baby Onix might not know its own strength, but a mother Pikachu does not send her children to play with it. It was this human's very nature to abuse and mistreat Pokémon like him, and Pikachu would be a fool to trust him.

There were not many trees in this field, and the one he was sitting in was too isolated to allow him to jump into another. He was uninjured and out of the human's reach, but, for the time being, he was also trapped. He wondered how long he would need to stay in this tree before the human gave him up.

The human was looking up expectantly, but a sudden rustling of grass made him turn around. "Dexter, what's that?"

"Pidgey is a Flying Pokémon. Among all the Flying Pokémon, it is the gentlest and easiest to capture. A perfect target for the beginning Pokémon trainer to test his Pokémon's skills," the Pokédex responded.

Pikachu wondered how intelligent this Pokédex was. It seemed to know exactly what Ash was interested in learning about Pidgey, even though all the boy had asked was what one was.

"This is great!" Ash shouted, forming his left hand into an eager fist. "It's our lucky day. Pikachu, go get it!"

Pikachu raised his brows in disbelief.

Ash put his arms down and looked up. "Aren't you ever going to listen to me?"

Pikachu snorted. Now this was comical. The human actually believed that Pikachu belonged to him. He believed it so thoroughly that even when Pikachu had effectively escaped from him with no intention of going along with him, much less obeying him, he thought the simple fact of his "possession" bound the two of them together in some fundamentally unalterable way.

Ash looked up at him. "Isn't there anything I can do to prove myself to you?"

Pikachu shook his head back and forth. "Chu."

"What if I catch that Pidgey all on my own? Would you respect me then? Well, even if you don't, I guess then I'll have at least one Pokémon who listens to me."

As Pikachu could clearly see from his perch on the branch, the brown and white bird Pokémon was pecking at a bare spot of ground with its sharp pink beak, hunting for insects. Ash crept back to the road, where he had left his green backpack. Picking it up by a single shoulder strap, he crept back to the tree and placed it at the base before reaching inside to pull out a pokéball.

"Alright, I'm pledged to get all the Pokémon in the world," he said, expanding the ball. "Now I'm ready to take the next step to be the number one Pokémon Master. Enjoy your last moments of freedom, Pidgey, cause you're mine!" He reached a hand up to his baseball cap and turned it backwards before crying, "Poké Ball, go!"

"He's trying to catch every Pokémon in the world?" Pikachu thought. "Ok, unintelligent and careless it is."

The Poké Ball flew through the air, popping open to suck in one rather bemused Pidgey. It snapped shut and wiggled on the ground.

Pikachu knew this Pidgey should have a right to refuse capture, but he held his breath as the red and white ball rocked back and forth. What if this Poké Ball was exactly like the one that had captured him? Was this the reason that the boy believed that he could throw a Poké Ball without battling the Pidgey in any way? Did he actually have a set of super-Poké Balls backing his megalomania?

The Poké Ball came apart with a loud crack, and the Pidgey rematerialized in a burst of red light.

"Not today, son," he chortled. He used a large pink talon to kick the remnants of the Poké Ball into the grass and resumed his hunt for insects.

Pikachu smiled.

"It didn't work?" the boy asked. "I guess I have to weaken it somehow." He started to walk around with his head tilted to the ground.

Meanwhile, the Pidgey had taken notice of Pikachu. "Is this boy with you?" he chirped.

"No," Pikachu replied shortly. "But I can tell you he's crazy."

"Aha!" The human picked up a sizeable gray rock.

Pidgey eyed it warily and spread his wings. "Thanks for the warning," he said, taking flight.

The human looked up. "Where did it go?"

By this time the Pidgey was above his head, flying in the direction of the road they had come from, but the human did not see him. Ash's gaze was focused on a patch of grass in front of him from which there had just come the rustling of a completely different sort of wings.

***

Aspeara had finally completed her flight from Cerulean City. It had taken her a day and a half, resting only for food and water, and she was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. The messenger who had delivered the news of her mother's death had impressed upon her a grave sense of urgency as well as a leaden weight of sorrow.

Her mother had been a proud Fearow, the matriarch of all the Spearow between Pallet Town and Viridian City, and she should have had a long life ahead of her. Instead, she had been murdered in the prime of life, with an egg still in the nest and her eldest daughter unevolved.

Aspeara was that eldest daughter, and her mother's death had created a power vacuum that only she could fill. The Spearow were in turmoil, not simply over the lack of a leader but because of the manner in which that leader had been ripped from them. The first Spearow Aspeara had spoken to upon arriving had shared the tale of humans in strange white clothing capturing and terrorizing every Pokémon they could lay their hands on – capturing not with Poké Balls but with nets and traps. Aspeara's mother had defended them, ultimately paying for it with her life. Gathered by their fallen leader's side, the Spearow had not seen the direction in which the humans fled, but the following days had left them hardened by grief and thirsty for justice.

Aspeara had spent the flight planning ways to reunite the Spearow under her underaged leadership while taking her mother's place in the nest. Her unhatched sibling would need constant attention in order to be kept warm and safe, and, after he or she hatched, Aspeara would also need to gather food and to teach, all while struggling to lead a great flock.

A week ago, she had been joy-riding the air currents with birds fresh from their mother's nests, planning a year more of adventures before even thinking of searching for a mate. She was far too young for any of this.

She pecked at the ground wearily, longing for sleep but still too nervous to return to her mother's nest and the egg waiting inside it. She couldn't stall for too much longer, since the cousin who had been sitting on it had flown away and left the duties entirely to her, but it truly would do her good to have a proper meal.

A spider she had startled out of hiding skittered past her pecking beak, and she fluttered her wings in frustration. She was so tired she could barely see straight.

The next thing she felt was a shooting pain at the base of her skull. She heard a rock clatter to the clay-like dirt behind her, and she turned. A human boy with jagged black hair, a small pointed nose, and a backwards baseball cap was looking at her with a hand raised in a position clearly indicating that he was the one who had just thrown that rock.

"Spearow," she cawed angrily, not bothering with words he wouldn't be able to understand.

"Dexter, what's that?" the human said, bringing a bright red device up to his face.

To her surprise, the device responded: "Unlike Pidgey, Spearow has a terrible attitude. It is very wild and will sometimes attack other Pokémon and humans."

"Attack?"

"Terrible attitude, huh? I'll show you a terrible attitude," Aspeara thought. She ran two steps forward and beat herself into the air. Filled with a new surge of energy, she pointed her beak at the human's face and flapped with all her might.

The human gave a cry and dove to the ground. She made a counter-clockwise turn around the trunk of the tree he stood near and came in for another strike.

This time, the human had a green pack that he swung by one strap, attempting to knock her out of the air. She dodged and circled around again, only to meet with the next swing. The heavy pack clipped her wing, forcing her to briefly land. She shook herself off, noting that a couple of tail feathers were missing. Judging by how much the human had been yelling, she decided that she had probably made her point. Her eyes wandered to the base of the tree, trying to judge the ideal direction for another takeoff, and she froze.

Resting just beside a tree root was a carefully woven nest of twigs and mud that Aspeara recognized instantly. It was the nest that had been in the lowest branch of this very tree, where a Pikachu now squatted. A nest that had contained the egg of her recently orphaned sibling, and it was upside down.

"You killed her!" she shrieked, for she had imagined the egg hatching into a beautiful little sister Spearow. Her mind filled with the image of a crushed shell and a tiny body broken that she was certain her eyes would meet with beneath the overturned nest, and she pumped her wings with greater speed than she ever had before.

"What?" gasped the Pikachu in the tree, but she had no time for his excuses. Having finally gained the height that she desired, she dove for him.

The Pikachu darted to the other end of the branch.

"You! You killed her!" she repeated as she dive bombed him over and over again.

He tried to argue with her in the short words he could make out between his attempts to dodge, but she didn't care if he was ignorant of his crime. Any Pokémon could see that the branch was perfect for a nest, and any Pokémon should have checked for one before going near it. Accident or not, the fault was his.

From below, the human tried to argue with her, too. "Hey, leave Pikachu alone. It didn't throw the rock."

She saw the Pikachu stiffen, his face contorting with rage at the use of the word "it". She took advantage of the distraction to nail her beak deep into his back. He toppled from the branch, but, when she turned, she found that he had managed to grab hold of it with a single forepaw.

"Pikachu!" the human cried.

She took aim at the obvious target: the paw holding the branch. She didn't know why he refused to drop into his trainer's arms, but the fact that he didn't want to was more than enough for her.

She dove, only to be met with shocking pain as volts of electricity zipped through her body. She squawked and fell into a tailspin, barely managing to regain control of her body in time to pull out a proper landing.

They couldn't get away with this, not while she was the leader of this flock. She raised herself to her full height, spreading her feathers wide like a miniature copy of her mother, and let out the closest thing to a battle cry her unevolved voice could muster: "Speeeearrrroooow!"


	5. Episode 1: 5- I'll Bring It Back Someday

Pikachu hadn't wanted to hurt the Spearow. It had to be some kind of misunderstanding; he had never killed anyone. He had never even been to this field before, but maybe there were other Pikachu who lived here. He could see by the tear in her eye and the rough condition of her feathers that the Spearow was battered and exhausted, and having taken a rock directly to the head probably didn't do wonders for her mental clarity.

If only he could have explained to her that she had the wrong Pikachu, he never would have had to shock her, but she had pursued him relentlessly until he had no other options. He had been hanging off the tree branch by a single paw. If he stayed there, he wouldn't be able to dodge the next attack. If he fell off the branch, he would land right in the human's arms. There was only one way to escape them both.

As the Spearow closed in, Pikachu summoned up the last reserves of his stored electricity. The Thundershock attack froze the Spearow mid-flight with a pained squawk, and she dropped like a stone. Pikachu let go of the branch and fell after her.

"You got it!" the human said, but Pikachu was already running past him. He had to get as far away as possible while the human threw his Poké Ball. Pikachu doubted that this Spearow would allow itself to be captured, but the human would think that he had a perfectly good chance. The process would slow them both, and Pikachu would have his escape.

He ran as fast as he could, not even pausing to spare a glance behind him, but, to his horror, he heard heavy footsteps gaining.

A loud cry burst out from the base of the tree they had just left: "Speeearrrroooow!"

A chill ran down Pikachu's fur. Though he had never heard its like before, he was able to identify the cry at once. It wasn't the cry of a lone Spearow. It was the cry of a leader. A leader summoning her flock to battle.

Every tree in the field came alight with the reply: "Spearow! Spearow! Spearow!"

Ash yelped as a bird swooped past his head. More came from the left, from the right, flying up from the bushes and down from the treetops, adding their numbers to the source of the cry until a single massive flock cawed as one.

"Don't worry, Pikachu," Ash said. "No matter what, I'll save you."

"Not likely!" Pikachu thought.

"Don't run ahead, I said I'd protect—Ow!"

Pikachu heard a thunk of beak against bone, but he didn't have time to consider what was happening to Ash. He was pushing himself to the limit, pounding his paws into the grass again and again as he panted for breath, but the Spearow had caught up to him. A single peck on his right shoulder was the opening note in a symphony of scratching talons and tearing beaks. The pain of one attack melted into the next until it seemed that every inch of his body was crying out. Hundreds of feathers flapped against his sides and no less than four wings at a time obstructed his view.

"Leave it alone, Spearows!"

Pikachu could feel the blood trickling all over his body like water through a sieve. Some wounds were slight, but others were far more serious. Beaks had torn straight through to the muscle of his right shoulder. He was limping, stumbling, trying desperately to reach the cover of a nearby bush when a pair of Spearow bashed him from the left and sent him sprawling.

"Ka!"

"Pikachu!" Human hands wrapped around him once again. They lifted him and held him up to the black fabric of the human's shirt. The cotton was warm and soft, the promise of a human shield from at least one angle of possible attack. The human ran hunched over so that the sides of his open vest fluttered like a partial tent on either side. The human's face was bent low, and, though Pikachu was looking at it from below, he could see that its expression was determined.

Pikachu felt the cloth that he was resting against grow damp with blood. His body was growing weak, and his electricity was gone. The cheek pockets were he stored up volts had been completely depleted by that last attack, and there was neither time nor opportunity to recharge them. Every time that he had used electricity today had felt like a matter of urgency, but they all seemed like a foolish waste in the face of this. Pikachu could die here.

He felt utterly helpless, unable to attack, to reason, to defend himself, or even to move. He hated the human for treating him like an object, but the crippling weight of his helplessness made him almost thankful that the human saw him as a valuable object. Ash was carrying him. Ash was protecting him. Perhaps, just until they found a place of safety from the Spearow, Pikachu could consider he and Ash as allies, former enemies united against a common force.

Pikachu didn't realize that they had been running along the stream until the human's shoes began to slosh through it. Distracted from his thoughts of a temporary truce, Pikachu looked down and wondered why the human was running with the current instead of dashing across it. He perked up an ear and heard a pounding rush of water.

The human gave no warning. He grasped ahold of Pikachu so tightly that the Pokémon could not so much as change positions, and then he took a running leap directly off the waterfall.

Pikachu felt the air whipping past, the painful splash of his back and head hitting the water as the human held him horizontal, and the gasp of breath rushing out of his lungs as a result. His mouth opened reflexively to bring the air back in, and he met with only water. It was freezing cold, surrounding him in all directions, and his burning lungs screamed. Still, the human arms held him, pinned beneath the surface. Pikachu was drowning.

***

Misty cast her line into the river with an angry flick, satisfied by the sight of the line whizzing through the air. Her hook landed a good distance downstream, and she began reeling it back in, counter to the force of the swift-moving current. She didn't know what she would be able to catch here, but catching Pokémon wasn't the point.

Certainly, she had told her sisters that it was, feeding them a pack of lies about rare water Pokémon that could only be found on the edge of Pallet Town. The truth was that the only significant thing about the edge of Pallet Town was that it was far away from her sisters and their gym.

The gym was supposed to belong to all of them, Misty thought as she cast out the line again. By all accounts, their parents had not been very specific when they had run out on them (something along the lines of "Do whatever you want with it. Burn it to the ground for all we care."), but she had as much right to it as any one of them.

There was only a four year age difference between herself and Lily, the youngest of her sisters, but ever since the day their parents left, Daisy, Violet, and Lily had become the adults and Misty had become the baby. She was fourteen years old now, and they were still treating her like one.

She had just reeled the line all the way in once more when she heard a splash so loud it rose above the pounding of the nearby waterfall.

Her first thought was that it must have been created by a water Pokémon large enough to snap her fishing pole in two. She set the fishing pole down beside the large rock she was standing on and turned, hoping to see something rare or exotic.

Instead, she saw a teenage boy struggling beneath the surface as the current washed him steadily downstream. There was something odd about the way that he was trying to swim, but she didn't have time to consider it. Kicking off her shoes, she took a running jump off the rock and swam towards him as quickly as she could.

The water met her like a familiar embrace. She had never been formally trained as a lifeguard, but swimming was in her blood. She moved into position in three powerful strokes and dove below the surface to grab hold of him from behind.

She could see now why he was having so much difficulty. Not only was he wearing heavy clothes, including full length blue jeans and sneakers on his feet, his arms were completely occupied with holding a small yellow mouse-like Pokémon that seemed to be unconscious. He was trying to fight the current and kick his way to the surface without the use of either of his arms, and he was obviously not an expert swimmer.

Misty wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling both of them up to the surface. The boy coughed and spluttered up water with every stroke, collapsing on the grass as soon as they reached the shore, just a short ways downstream from her fishing spot. Misty ignored him and laid down next to the Pokémon that had rolled out of his arms at last, putting her hand up to its nose and mouth to check for breathing.

The yellow mouse Pokémon looked awful. Its fur was completely soaked, bunching up into patches that revealed cuts and scratches over almost every surface. Its mouth was closed, and not a single breath of warm air escaped from its nose.

"You... saved me," the boy choked out.

Misty didn't even spare him a glance. She lifted the Pokémon by its hind legs, the water running off of it in rivulets, and began to shake it downwards.

"Hey!" the boy protested, stumbling towards her.

She looked up angrily, but, before she could tell him to back off, the Pokémon coughed out a stream of water and fluid, followed by a rasp of breath.

"Pikachu!" the boy cried out, reaching out to take the Pokémon from her arms.

Knowing that she'd done all that she could, Misty allowed it. "This Pikachu is in bad shape," she said. "You need to get it to a Pokémon Center right away!"

"Pokémon Center?"

"There's one in Viridian City, just up the road."

The boy looked around at the rocks and trees, seemingly confused.

"That way!" Misty pointed angrily. "And don't you ever let me catch you treating your Pokémon like that again! They aren't meant to continue battling in that condition!"

"I didn't..." the boy began, but, suddenly, he turned his head up to the sky. "They're coming back!"

He took off running in the direction she had pointed.

"Hey, I wasn't done..." She ran past a large tree and caught sight of him gripping a bike by the handlebars.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm borrowing this," he said, putting Pikachu in the basket.

"That's my bike!" Misty cried, but the boy had already climbed on and started pedaling furiously.

Amid the cawing of a flock of Spearow winging their way across the river, the boy turned his head back: "I'll bring it back someday."

***

Aspeara pumped her wings hard, letting out another caw of encouragement to her flock. They would not lose that Pikachu. They would not lose that human. The two of them were in it together. They had killed her little sister. Killed her. The sight of a tiny, broken body flooded her vision once again, and she couldn't stand the pain of it.

Pain so great demanded to be shared. She had to hurt the ones that had done this to her, to hear them screaming out with all the pain that she felt in her heart as her beak dripped blood.

She pushed herself on to even greater speed, catching up even to the bicycle the human was speeding away on. Then she dove, cracking her beak against his head. She bounced back and saw her flock raining down upon the human, striking against his head, his arms, his back. They were relentless, fueled by the same anger. The flock was one.

Aspeara burst forward for another attack, only to overshoot her target as the human's head suddenly dropped below her flight path. The scene replayed in her weary mind like a flash: the human had raised his arm to protect his face, lost control of the bicycle, sent it careening off a steep embankment.

The flock was scattered and confused. Not all of them had seen where the bicycle had gone. she fluttered in the air above the place where they had dropped and cawed, trying to re-gather them.

***

Pikachu felt the heavy drops of rain stinging against his wounds and the hard ground beneath the layer of bruises on his stomach. The Spearow were relentless, seeming to take no notice of the rain, not even when the lightning had burst out behind them. The image of thirty avian forms silhouetted against that flash of light had burned itself into his brain, the manifestation of fear.

In front of him, the human groaned and raised his head. "Pikachu!"

The boy crawled over to him, and Pikachu found himself far too weak to even consider shaking off the hand that was laid against his back. With the other hand, the boy pulled out a Poké Ball. Pikachu recognized it at once, even before it was expanded to full size. He shivered away from it.

"Pikachu, get inside. I know you're afraid of going in there, but if you're inside, maybe I can save you."

It wasn't just that Pikachu was afraid. He had made a vow to himself, a promise that was about so much more than fear of an object of containment. He would not allow himself to be enslaved. He shook his head firmly.

"You won't go in," Ash said. "Alright, I know that I can't force you."

Pikachu felt the curved edges of the Poké Ball brush against his fur as the boy put it down on the ground next to him.

"I won't force you to be my Pokémon." Ash gulped back tears. "I don't need you to get inside the Poké Ball, but I need you to survive. I'll give you as much time as I can, but now you need to run!"

As the boy struggled to his feet, Pikachu thought: "This is it? I'm free? But how? Why?"

The boy stood tall, spread his arms wide, and gave a shout: "Spearows, do you know who I am? I am Ash from the town of Pallet. I'm destined to be the world's number one Pokémon master."

Pikachu had known that it was only a matter of time before the Spearow found them again, but the human was leading them directly to them.

"No," he realized, "not to us. He's leading the Spearow directly to _him_. He has no plans, no way to defend himself. They're going to kill him."

***

Aspeara, leading the Spearow to the shout, had no clear intention of killing anyone. Neither did any of the Spearow in her flock. Individually, they only did a small amount of damage—a peck here, a scratch there, enough to assuage their thirst for retribution—but it all added up. Drawn on by their rage and the pressure of a flock that was still fighting, still fighting, still fighting, each bird circled in again and again, not knowing how and when it would all end.

If their fight continued, none of them would ever know who struck the killing blow. The weight of guilt would be all of theirs. And none of theirs.

But none of this would be realized until much later. The flock had only one thing on its mind: vengeance on the murderers. It spun and dove, beaks and claws thirsting for flesh.

***

Pikachu couldn't believe it, even as the human screamed. He couldn't be sacrificing himself to save a Pokémon. It couldn't be; he was a human.

Like a flash of the lightning in the sky, it came to him. "The human" was not just a human, anymore than he was just a Pikachu. The human called him "Pikachu" after the name of his species, as if every Pikachu on the planet were the same, and that was wrong of him, as wrong as calling him "it" and treating him like an object to be used. Pikachu was an individual, full and complete, deserving of every right, and not the fulfillment of any oversimplification or stereotype.

Pikachu had known this, and yet, all this time, he had been treating the human as the embodiment of his entire species. "The human" was named Ash and Ash... truly cared enough to sacrifice his life.

Ash, who had been off balanced by the last attack, straightened up again while the Spearow were gaining height for a second dive. "Come and get me!"

Pikachu decided that it was time to do what Ash had told him to do. He ran. He ran straight across the muddy ground and leapt into the air, digging his claws into the green fabric of the backpack as if it were the bark on a tree. He jumped from the backpack on to Ash's shoulder and used it as a springboard, launching himself up into the air between Ash and the Spearow.

His cheeks buzzed with power, but not because he was releasing electricity. No, this time he was attracting it.

The bolt of lightning hit him instantly, turning every nerve ending in his body into a live wire. Power coursed through his body, more than he had ever felt before, more than he could handle. His plan of redirecting the energy into the flock of Spearow fled from his mind along with every other thought that wasn't related to immense pain and the need to rid his body of it.

"Pi-ka-chuuu!" he cried.

The electricity was exploding out of him. His body was falling through the air, and, though it must have been less than a second, it felt like an eternity before he hit the ground, where all of the volts drained out.

His ears were ringing from the boom of thunder. He saw rather than heard Ash's desperate screams, the bodies of Spearow plummeting into the mud, and finally the boy's body joining them.

"No," Pikachu thought. "No, no, no!"

He crawled, inch by agonizing inch, to Ash, the human who had set him free to save his life. Pikachu checked for breath, for any signs of electronic impulses coursing through his brain, and found that he truly had given his life for it. Ash was dead.


	6. Episode 1:6 - Sacrifice

The Spearow flock lay dazed, burnt and scalded, its feathers trailing in the mud. Unconscious and retaining no memory of what had happened, it would awaken only after the rain had begun to slow. Confused and in pain, it would fly home, bird by bird, seeking the shelter of the familiar.

Aspeara would only remember the overturned nest of her mother after finding that she had no nest to fly home to. Angry and exhausted, she would fly down to the base of the tree to see if any portion of it could be salvaged and to prepare the corpse of her sibling for burial. She would find the nest intact, but, upon lifting it, she would find nothing but grass. The egg was not there. The flock had battled long and hard to avenge the death of one of its own. Now, there was no proof that there even was a death to be avenged.

Before Aspeara could even begin to consider what had really happened, she collapsed from her exhaustion.

***

Hours before the storm, Gary had been driving his convertible on the road from Pallet to Viridian City. His original plan, to search these fields until he had captured one of every kind of Pokémon that lived here, had been thrown by the wayside. As he crawled down the road at five miles per hour, he turned his head left and right, not in search of Pokémon, but in search of Kyle.

He was halfway to Viridian City before he caught sight of another person—a thirteen year old girl with straight brown hair. She was standing with her back to the road, as if she was watching something.

"Hey, Jenny!" Gary said, recognizing her at once. "Is there any chance you've seen a boy named Kyle today?"

She turned around. Cradled in her arms, a freckled, turquoise-colored Pokémon closed its red eyes with a happy hum.

"You're looking for Kyle? Well, sure, he's right over there." She stopped petting the Pokémon's large green bulb in order to point backwards into the nearby field.

"Really?" Gary pulled his car to the side of the road, and Jenny set down her Bulbasaur.

The Pokémon loped up to him as soon as he stepped out. "Bulba!"

"This is Gary, Tulip," Jenny introduced. "He's starting out today just like us."

Tulip opened her mouth into a wide pink grin and loped back across the road, heading in the direction that Jenny had pointed. Jenny ran after her with a laugh. Gary tried to follow at a walking pace just brisk enough to not lose sight of them. Luckily, they didn't go far.

"Bulba," Tulip said again as Gary walked up to a seemingly ordinary patch of tall grass. It was only by looking down from above that he saw a beefy thirteen year old with a crew cut lying on his stomach with his legs pointed up from the knees and his elbows resting on the ground. His eyes were trained on the Pokédex in front of him, on which he was punching a long series of buttons.

"Pokémon registered," the mechanical voice said.

"Don't tell me you found a new Pokémon!" Gary said, lending his voice a note of false excitement.

"Around here? No way. Only Pidgey, Rattata, and Spearow around for miles. No." The boy stood up, finally turning to face Gary. "I deleted my Pokédex's memory, that's all."

"You did what?"

The boy shrugged. "If I'm going to be a Pokémon researcher, I could use the practice. Besides, it's more fun that way, don't you think?"

"But what if you need to know something about a Pokémon you've never seen before?" Gary asked. "You do realize that it's not all fun and games out here. One of my mother's friends died at the hands of a wild Pokémon."

"That was years ago. Things were different then. Besides, we've still got Jenny's Pokédex for that. Did she tell you we're travelling together?"

"No. Actually, I came here looking for you."

"Oh?"

"You see, I thought that a future Pokémon researcher such as yourself would appreciate having the opportunity to study as many rare Pokémon as he could get his hands on. I heard from my grandfather that you chose the Charmander this morning, and I'm sure you've had a lot of time to study it by now.

"Charmander is really the most common of the starter Pokémon, you know. Everybody wants one, so they're all over the place. You'll see trainers with Charmander from here to Saffron City, but you know which Pokémon is rare? Squirtle. It's much more difficult to find water Pokémon when you're travelling on land, and not many people realize its true potential.

"I know you're new to the region and everything, so you probably didn't realize that. I was thinking that I would trade you my Squirtle in exchange for your Charmander, and then you can have data for two starter Pokémon in your freshly scrubbed Pokédex. What do you say?"

"Well, actually," Kyle said with a frown. "I already do have the data for two starter Pokémon. Jenny let me take a photo and do some basic measurements of her Bulbasaur. Since we're travelling together, I'll get to watch both Pokémon as they grow and learn, and I think that's really the best opportunity an aspiring Pokémon researcher could ask for."

"Sure, sure," Gary said, trying not to let his face show his disappointment. "Tell you what, if you trade me your Charmander, I'll send you pictures of it every day. I'll even meet up with you whenever we're in the same area so you can study it in person. Then you'll have all three starter Pokémon as subjects."

Kyle reached into his belt and pulled out his Poké Ball. He pushed the button to expand it and directed his gaze at the polished red metal as he continued to speak: "That does sound cool, but, the thing is, Blaze and I hit it off from the first moment we met at Professor Oak's lab. Jenny and I both woke up really early so that we could meet all of the starter Pokémon at once and see which ones would be good friends to us. I don't want to give him up. Pokémon research is a cool job, but friends are more important."

Gary couldn't believe what he was hearing: friends are more important? More important for a loser, maybe. If his father had taught him one thing, it was the importance of ambition. Gary believed in having a strong drive for success that included doing whatever it took to reach your goal. His goal was to get that Charmander, but it was becoming abundantly clear that he was going about it in entirely the wrong way. Gary had miscalculated, and now he would have to pay the price for a ruined first encounter.

"Maybe you could travel with us, too, Gary," Jenny suggested. "Joining a group of friends is much more fun than walking all over the Kanto region alone."

"I'm not walking. I'm driving," Gary replied icily. "I think it's clear that you and I have different goals. I suppose I'll just take my Squirtle and use it to become the world's greatest Pokémon master. Did I mention that Pewter City's gym—that's the first one you'll come to, by the way—is rock type? Yeah, we're going to fly right through, but if you change your mind after losing five times in a row, give me a call. Maybe I'll still be nice enough to throw you a bone."

He stormed away, ignoring Jenny's: "Well, if you change your mind...!"

He kicked a rock on the ground with surprising force, sending it flying into the trunk of a nearby tree. It clattered to the ground near the roots, but not before the loud thunk of its impact drew Gary's attention to a nearby branch.

"That looks like a Spearow nest."

He climbed onto one of the tree's protruding roots, using it as a stepstool as he pushed up onto his toes. With his sixteen year old body stretched to its fullest, his fingertips could just barely touch a warm, smooth egg. Not wanting to risk damaging it, he moved his hand back and lifted the entire nest free of the branch.

He had lied to Kyle and Jenny about using Squirtle to defeat Brock. He had no intention of laying eyes on that stupid turtle until he was waving goodbye to it in the arms of its new trainer Kyle. He knew that it would make things more difficult for him, but he didn't only want to become the greatest trainer who ever lived. He wanted to do it his way.

He would do whatever it took. If he couldn't use Squirtle to trade for Charmander or to catch a wild Pokémon, well, then...

He plucked the speckled egg out of the nest and cradled it gently in his hands. He could drive in to Viridian City right now and buy a special case to protect it and keep it warm; he knew the exact supplier that his grandfather used. A Spearow that he hatched himself would be loyal to him forever.

He tossed the nest aside carelessly and walked back to his car, already planning the arrangement of blankets and spare clothes he would spread on the passenger seat to keep it warm and protected until he could pop it into a case and forget about it until it hatched.

"You'd better hatch fast," he muttered to it. "We've got a lot of work to do."

***

Sam was nearing the end of his tale about Ash and Pikachu's first meeting when he was cut off mid-sentence by a burst of sobs.

"Eh? Delia, what's wrong?" he asked, unaware of having said anything offensive or shocking.

"It's Ash," Delia said. "I can't explain it, but I just know that something terrible has happened to him."

Sam looked on as she broke down for the second time that morning. He had known Delia since she was Ash's age, and it broke his heart to see her in so much pain. In all the years that he had known her, he had only seen her this upset on one occasion: the night that she had burst into his laboratory to demand that he release every Pokémon that she had ever owned.

It was just after 1:30 in the morning, and he had sprung out of bed and down the stairs to find her standing in the open doorway, her posture a mix of assertiveness and polite timidity, as if she wouldn't quite barge in without his permission. Her hair was flowing down onto the shoulders of her light rose-colored night clothes, and her pokéball belt was held in her right hand. As soon as he appeared, she threw it to the ground.

"I'm done with Pokémon training," she announced through a stream of tears.

"Delia," he gasped, "please, sit down and tell me what's upsetting you."

She took a step inside, and he hurried to close the door against the cold night air. He gestured her towards the chair that he reserved for guests, but she refused it.

"He left me, Professor."

"Cypress... He left? For good? You and the baby?"

Sam had thought that Delia was acting rashly, making an emotional decision in the heat of the moment that she would come to regret deeply. It was only after Delia told him that Cy had told her of his plans over a week ago and that he had already been gone for three days that Sam realized that it wasn't quite as spur-of-the-moment as he had thought.

Still, he had thought that her motivations were short-sighted and foolish. She was eighteen years old, barely a woman, and she had just had her heart broken by the first man that she had ever loved. He expected her to act foolishly simply because of what she was.

Sam tried to talk her out of her plan, offering to take care of the Pokémon for her until it became easier for her to bear the memories of her husband that they carried. He argued that there was no need to release the Pokémon, particularly because the bonds that they shared might help her through this. He told her that he would hate to see her destroy everything she had worked so hard for in a single moment of passion.

"You're right that the Pokémon remind me of him," she had replied. "Every time I look at them, I remember the travels that we shared together and the battles that we fought side by side. I look at Hope and imagine flying back to him. I would have done that very thing this afternoon if Ash hadn't started crying the instant that I touched her side.

"Don't you see? Even if the Pokémon are with you, I will still be tempted to come and take them back, to go chasing after him at the cost of everything. I don't want to travel anymore. Cy and I agreed to settle down here so that we could raise a family and take real jobs and be part of a community again. I want to reopen my mother's restaurant. I want to raise my son.

"Travelling and becoming the best—that's his dream. The Pokémon are part of his dream, too. They were trained to battle and to protect us, to keep growing stronger and facing ever greater challenges. They weren't meant to stand by while I change diapers and play peek-a-boo. That's the life I chose, but they don't have a part in it, and Ash can't have a part in a life of travelling with them. I can't hold on to both realities at once, and, for as long as I've tried, it's been tearing me in two.

"I love Cy so much that I can't trust myself not to sacrifice my dreams for his. That's why I have to give up on Pokémon training. The Pokémon are a part of his dreams, and, if I'm going to have the life I truly want, for myself and for my son, they can't be haunting mine."

Sam had led her to the shelf with her name on it. He sat quietly in his desk chair as she took from it Poké Ball after Poké Ball, starting with the most recently caught and working her way backwards until she was delivering her heartfelt goodbyes to the Pokémon she had received from this very laboratory five years before.

The parting with that Charizard brought her to her knees. Sam thought that he had never seen a greater display of strength.

When the Charizard had finally flown away, Delia turned back to him, wiping at her eyes. "Thank you, Professor."

He had risen from his desk chair and said, "I think that you should call me Sam."

Sam had been just as weak and powerless then as he was now. He sat and watched while Delia suffered, unable to slow a single tear or set right the smallest piece of what was wrong.

She sat in the lobby of the restaurant having lost her husband, her Pokémon, and, if she was to be believed, her son.

And Sam did believe that she was right, even though all the evidence at his disposal pointed to Ash being alive and well on the road to Viridian City. He had never known Delia to state anything with as much certainty as this except when she was right beyond the smallest doubt. He didn't understand how, but he did believe that she knew.

A weight of guilt sank into his heart. He never should have given Ash that Pikachu. Now, it was too late. He was a weak, tired old man, crushed beneath his burdens and hers and the weight of the cruel, cruel world in which they lived.

"Please," Delia sobbed. "Can't anyone do something to save him?"

***

It is said that the legendary bird of cleansing fire hears the cries of the pure hearted. The bird that never rests flies continuously over the face of the world, gazing down upon the sacrifices made by mortals. It is said that the bird will restore justice where it has been lost.

Just as it once brought life to Entei, Raikou, and Suicune after the Pokémon that they once were burned alive in the Brass Tower, the immortal bird brings life renewed, the gift of rising from the ashes.

"Rise up, Ash."

***

Ash's eyelids fluttered open. Pikachu, who had been lying beside the corpse for nearly an hour, took this as final confirmation that he was going into shock. He had lost so much blood that he was hallucinating now.

That, in itself, was surprisingly pleasant. If the tricks played on his eyes were of the same theme as fluttering eyelids on the dead and rainbows in a sky completely free of rain, he could almost welcome them. The problem, of course, was that these might be the last images that he would ever see. If his condition had progressed so far, he knew that it would not be long until he joined Ash in death.

Pikachu looked up into the cloudy blue sky and could have sworn he saw a colossal bird of brilliant red, gold, and green plumage trailing the rainbows behind its wings like living streamers of color. He was deeply impressed by the magnificence of this dying hallucination.

"Dexter, what is that?" hallucination-Ash asked groggily.

"Pokémon unknown."

Pikachu almost could have laughed. He had known Ash for less than a day, and yet his subconscious mind had rendered the boy perfectly. Typical Ash, trying to make his device identify a legendary that no living human had seen for at least a century, and this while his own Pokémon lay dying.

"Pikachu?" hallucination-Ash asked, as though he had somehow heard that last thought.

Pikachu could have laughed again. Of course Ash had heard it; hallucination-Ash lived inside his head.

Pikachu closed his eyes and found the hallucinations travelling into physical sensation. He felt his body lifted off the ground by warm human hands, held against a shirt just like Ash's while a rush of air blew in continuously from the opposite direction. As he was clearly reliving the memory of Ash protecting him from the Spearow, he wondered why the pounding of sneakers against the ground had been replaced by the squish of mud, as if somehow it was really happening right now.

"I'm going to get you to the Pokémon Center, I promise. Pikachu, please, hold on!"


	7. Episode 2:1 - Pokémon Emergency

Gary's drive into Viridian City came to an abrupt halt when a blue-haired woman in a police uniform ran out into the middle of the road with a white-gloved hand raised high. "Stop!"

Gary slammed on the brakes, his heart pounding as the image of striking and killing her flashed across his mind. The tires squealed against the rough pavement. Gary's head flew back into the seat, and, on the passenger seat beside him, the Spearow egg shot out of its makeshift nest. The car stopped inches from the outstretched hand, and the egg bounced off the cushioned seat. Gary's eyes switched from the officer to the sudden motion just in time; he stretched his right arm across the divide and caught it. The hairs on the back of his hand tickled the hard dashboard it would have slammed into.

The police officer addressed him with a stern glare: "Viridian City is on lockdown. No one comes into the city without stopping to show proper identification."

Gary tried to control his breathing as he eased the egg back into the nest of clothes and blankets. "You couldn't have put up a sign?" he snapped.

"Well, we do have wanted posters. It's your own fault if you sped right past them." Officer Jenny pointed to a small printed paper taped to the front of the oddly-shaped police station she must have come from.

The sign did, indeed, read "Wanted" in large block letters, but it was so small that it would have gone unnoticed even by a person riding past it on a bicycle. Having come to a stop right next to it, Gary could now see that it displayed grainy photos of a man and a woman.

"This doesn't say anything about stopping at a checkpoint," Gary protested.

"If you don't stop to show identification, how will we know it's safe to let you in?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you saying you think that I'm a criminal?" His eyes swept over the pictures one more time. Neither one showed the entire face of its subject, but it was evident that the man had blue hair significantly longer than Gary's spiky brown. "I'll have you know that I am Gary Oak, grandson of Professor Samuel Oak and son of Roger Webb of the United Kanto Pharmaceutical Company."

Although his father's name opened more doors than his grandfather's did, Gary always had to mention his connection to both in order to generate maximum effect and to explain the difference in last names. The connection between himself and his grandfather was clear, and Professor Oak's story was well-known enough for people to recall the basics of it when his father and grandfather's names were paired together.

Gary's father had married Professor Oak's daughter and had chosen to take on her name. Unfortunately, the marriage had ended badly, causing Roger to revert to his original name. Gary, who was eight years old at the time of the divorce, had chosen to keep the name he had been born with rather than taking on his father's. Even eight years later it was a source of family tension, which meant that it was hardly ever mentioned.

"Can you prove that?" Officer Jenny asked.

In response, he put the car in park, unbuckled his seatbelt, and stepped out to physically hand over his bright red Pokédex.

"My grandfather stored all of the proper identification and the trainer's license in here," he told her, flipping it open and pressing the proper button. He was glad he knew his grandfather's work so well; the other kids like Ash probably didn't even know the Pokédex was designed to do that.

The officer looked at it with a frown of concentration, her eyes tracing the pattern of reading over every word. Gary looked back to the Spearow egg, hoping that the sudden stop and subsequent close call hadn't shocked the Pokémon inside. He thought back to how long it had been since he had plucked it from the nest and wondered how much longer it would take before it started to get cold.

His foot tapped impatiently until the officer finally looked up. "And you solemnly swear that you are not connected to these Pokémon thieves in any way?"

"Of course not," Gary snapped.

"You refuse to swear?"

"No, I mean that I don't know anything about your stupid thieves."

She raised her eyebrows. "Stupid?"

Gary looked back at the egg and pictured it slowly growing cold while he argued. He clenched his jaw. "I swear that I am not connected to those two Pokémon thieves in any way. Now may I go?"

She handed back his Pokédex with obvious reluctance. "I could have sworn you looked like a Pokémon thief."

"I've never stolen a Pokémon in my life."

Completely oblivious of the lie, he sped away into Viridian City.

***

Gary cradled the Spearow egg in both hands as he walked into the supply store. He was thankful that he had been able to find it so quickly after all these years. He'd never thought that he would appreciate anything he experienced during the heated months in which his parents were at each others' throats in the battle for custody of him, but living with his grandfather had given him connections of unexpected usefulness.

The walls of the store were cluttered with mechanical equipment and parts, and the shelves were overflowing with a disorganized array of Pokémon-related medicines, lab equipment, and other specialty products. At the front, a wrap-around desk supporting a cash register was cluttered with papers. Gary used his elbow to ring a bell sitting atop a mound of old receipts and brushed his fingers back and forth over the smooth surface of the egg, trying to warm it with the friction.

After about a minute, the door to a back room opened, and a man walked up to the opposite end of the desk. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to buy an egg case sized for this," he held up the Spearow egg, "as well as any food and supplies you have for baby Spearow."

The man lifted his eyeglasses to his forehead and looked at the egg intently. "Where did you get that?"

"My grandfather gave it to me," he lied. "I guess the poor thing was orphaned, and he needed someone to take care of it."

"And he didn't give you one of his own egg cases?" the man questioned with a frown.

Gary shrugged. "I guess they were all in use. You could call him if you want."

Obviously, this was a bluff. Gary was hoping quite badly that the man would not mention so much as a word of this to Professor Oak.

"Alright." The man shrugged and lifted up the wooden flap that allowed him to come out from behind the desk. He wandered around the cluttered aisles, muttering to himself about where he had put things. Luckily, though, he was able to find the egg cases rather quickly.

Gary transferred the egg to one hand and propped the open case on his knee while he turned it on and placed the egg carefully inside. The man had wandered ahead to a shelf filled with tiny bottles, apparently not even noticing that his customer had fallen behind. Gary sealed the case shut with a sigh of relief.

"You had me scared there, little guy." He smiled at it without realizing what he was doing. "Don't worry, you're going to be fine."

***

Misty sat on a bench in the Pokémon Center lobby, glaring at the rain water dripping from the frayed edges of her knee-length jean shorts onto the green tiled floor. She didn't mind getting wet, but she did mind running all the way to Viridian City in the middle of a lightning storm. She especially minded it because, after asking for directions and running all the way to the far end of the city, she had learned from Nurse Joy that a black-haired boy with a Pikachu had not come in at all.

That little thief had probably doubled around and gone back to Pallet Town just to escape from her. Some way to thank the girl who just saved your life and your Pokémon's. Assuming that the Pokémon had made it. That thought troubled Misty most of all. She was hoping that he had found another place to heal it, but, for all she knew, he had tossed it out of the basket like a piece of garbage just to add a tiny bit of speed to his getaway.

She knew that bikes were expensive, with demand so high and only one man left in the entire region who was able to build and sell them, but sacrificing the life of a Pokémon for the sake of a ploy was completely unacceptable.

She turned around to look at the birdhouse-shaped clock on the wall, wondering if enough time had passed to make it worth calling the police station again. That was all she was waiting for now: the chance to report the thief.

Her sisters were going to kill her if she didn't bring that bike back, not just because of its value and its usefulness but because it was one of the only things their mother hadn't taken with her.

She looked to the wide windows that made up the rounded front edge of the building and stood up with a gasp. A bulky white motorcycle with a blinking red light skidded sideways through the automatic glass doors and directly into the lobby. The sidecar collided with the front desk, and the black haired boy inside cried out.

"Hey!" Misty said, but Nurse Joy was rushing in from the door to the patients' rooms, pink curls bobbing.

"Officer Jenny, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

The police officer, who somehow managed to leap off the motorcycle in a knee-length blue pencil skirt, met Nurse Joy's indignation with confidence. "This is a Pokémon emergency! Ash's Pikachu is in need of immediate medical assistance."

"Oh!" Nurse Joy's white heels clicked rapidly over to the sidecar, where Ash was just beginning to stand, and looked down at the battered Pokémon in his arms. "Chanseys, I need a stretcher right away!"

"It's you!" Misty said, pointing an accusing finger at the boy. "You're the one who stole my bike!"

"Please, can't you help him?" Ash asked, looking down at his Pikachu.

"We'll certainly do our best," Nurse Joy said, lifting it from his arms as a pair of Chanseys in white nurses hats wheeled in a Pokémon-sized stretcher. "Why isn't it inside its Poké Ball?"

"It refuses to go in there," Ash replied. "I tried to tell it to, I really did."

"If it won't go inside the Poké Ball, we'll have to operate. Put the Poké Ball here." Nurse Joy motioned to an empty space at the foot of the stretcher.

"What part of 'you need to get it to a Pokémon Center right away' didn't you understand?" Misty demanded, furious at being ignored. "You should have had that Pikachu here a half an hour ago! And what did you do to my bike?"

"Your bike?" Officer Jenny said, finally looking at her. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

As Nurse Joy and the Chansey sped away to the operating room, Misty placed her hands firmly on her hips. "I found this kid and his Pikachu drowning in a river. I jumped in, pulled them out, gave them directions here, and what's the thanks I get? He runs off with my bike! He went off and did who-knows-what with it, and now he claims to be thinking of his Pikachu? It looks even worse than it did when he left me!"

Officer Jenny spun around to face Ash. "Is this true?"

"I only borrowed her bike because I needed to get away from the Spearow," he protested. "They wouldn't stop chasing us. A whole flock of them! I thought they were going to kill us. I needed to get Pikachu to the Pokémon Center, but then I crashed and there was a lightning storm, and... Really I got Pikachu here just as quickly as I could, I promise!"

Officer Jenny narrowed her eyes. "A likely story."

Ash's eyes widened innocently. "No, really, it's true!"

Misty frowned. Ash's words and facial expression seemed to be sincere, and she had heard a large flock of Spearos overhead just before he ran off. "So where's my bike, then?"

Ash's gaze dropped down to his hands. He extended both index fingers and tapped them together nervously as he responded, "It sort of... got destroyed."

"Destroyed?"

His eyes flew up to hers as his face filled with an expression of worry. "Not completely destroyed, just a little bit. I mean, it got damaged pretty badly, but..."

"That was the only bike we had!" Misty felt tears springing to her eyes, which she redirected into anger, curling up her fists.

"Well, I've heard enough," said Officer Jenny. "Young man, you are under arrest for theft and destruction of property." She whipped out a pair of handcuffs.

"Arrested? But if I'm arrested, who's gonna stay here with Pikachu?"

"Well, you should have thought of that before you stole... I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Misty."

"You should have thought of that before you stole Misty's bicycle," Officer Jenny reprimanded sternly. She walked behind him and grabbed his arm.

As the cuffs snapped into place, Ash's eyes darted to the glowing sign above the operating room, which indicated that the procedure was already underway, then back to Misty. "Please, Misty, will you stay here with Pikachu? I know I messed up, but Pikachu didn't do anything wrong."

Misty was taken aback. "S-Sure."

As Officer Jenny marched him over to the motorcycle, she found that she couldn't stop puzzling over this careless, dark-haired thief who seemed simultaneously honest, repentant, and compassionate. Was it all some kind of trick or could there really be such a combination of traits invested in one single person? Who was this boy named Ash?


	8. Episode 2:2 - Danger on the Horizon

Sam had convinced Delia to take the rest of the day off. She'd left Diego and Sasha to make do with a restricted menu and limited seating, according to what they could handle on their own, and had biked home. She'd been so worn out from emotion that she had collapsed on the couch and fallen asleep as soon as she walked in the door.

She was awoken by the sound of the phone ringing.

"Hello?" she said, picking up the handset. On the video screen in front of her, a picture flashed up of a boy covered in dried mud, his eyes red and puffy and his head hanging. Framed behind him were the iron bars of a jail cell.

"Ash, you're alright!" she cried exultantly. In her partially awakened state, she hadn't even noticed the lifting of that eerie hopelessness that had come over her back at the restaurant.

Ash's eyes flashed up in shock. "Alright? Mom, I've been arrested!"

"I know! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Mom, have you lost your mind?"

She stopped herself with a shake of her head, knowing that he would never understand. "No, no. I'm sorry. I must have been wrong about something, that's all. Where are you?"

"The police station in Viridian City."

"Alright," she said, her mind racing. "I'll find a way to get you out."

As he explained the details of the situation, her eyes narrowed further and further until finally she said, "Ash, it is not safe for you to be travelling with that Pikachu. I don't care what Sam said to you, he made a mistake. You never should have gotten that Pokémon in the first place."

"But Mom, I can't just abandon him."

"He was a wild Pokémon before, Ash. He'll be fine."

"But he got hurt. When I left he was still in surgery. He's going to need someone to take care of him."

"Someone else can take care of him," she replied fiercely.

"Alright, time's up." The face of Officer Jenny appeared in the background.

"Bye, Mom," Ash said.

"I'm coming for you," she answered just before the screen went dark.

She sat in a nearby chair, swept over with another tide of relief. She could have sworn that something terrible had happened to her son, but all along he was only landing himself in jail for something that could be cleared up easily. It would involve a trip to Viridian City, of course, but now she would find some way to pull it off.

No, her true concern was that wild Pikachu. She knew that she had just been completely wrong about one thing, but she was convinced that Pokémon was going to bring her son into terrible danger. She didn't know how or why or even when, but what she did know was that she never again wanted to face the sense of loss that she had just recovered from. Whether the danger was from the Pikachu itself or from outside forces acting because of the Pikachu, she was determined to do whatever it took to keep her son safe.

***

Misty was still sitting outside the operating room when two young trainers walked in, dripping wet and shaking with laughter. A brown-haired girl flicked her hand, splattering droplets of water across the boy's face. As they bantered back and forth about whether the boy had tripped into a puddle or been pushed, they walked up to the empty front desk.

"Nurse Joy is in the operating room right now," Misty called out to them. "You'll have to heal your Pokémon later."

"Oh," the boy said. "Well, that's ok. We were planning to stay here for the night anyway."

"Do you know how long it will be?" the girl asked as they walked over to the bench where Misty sat.

Misty looked up at the light above the door to the operating room. It was still glowing with a red needle on a white background. "I hope it won't be too much longer. They've already been in there for an hour."

"Oh," the girl said quietly. "Is that your Pokémon inside?"

"No, it belongs to a boy named Ash."

"Ash got here before us? Wow, I wasn't expecting that. I mean, nothing against him or anything, but we left so early I could have sworn we would be ahead of him. Sorry, this is Kyle and I'm Jenny. We both came from Pallet Town this morning, too."

Misty stood up to shake their hands. "I didn't even know that Ash came from Pallet Town. We just met today, and, well, we didn't exactly get a proper introduction."

She told them the story of what had happened, sitting back down on the bench as they pulled up two chairs from the rows of nearby computers.

"Professor Oak gave him a Pikachu?" Kyle asked. "I never thought about it, but there were only three starter Pokémon to choose from, weren't there? I never thought that my moving here would upset the balance like that. If I had stayed in Sinnoh, Gary could have gotten the Charmander he wanted and Ash would have had the Squirtle."

"You shouldn't feel guilty, Kyle," Jenny said. "It wasn't your decision to move here. Besides, Gary has always been a self-entitled jerk. I think not getting what he wants for once will teach him a lesson. I am worried about Ash though, stealing someone's bike doesn't sound like something he would do at all. He must have really been in trouble, and now he's in jail for it."

"It sounds like you really know him," Misty said.

She nodded. "Ash and I grew up together. My mother ran the Pallet Town Orphanage, so there were always lots of other kids around, but they were all at least two years older than me. Ash was the only kid in town my age. He and Gary used to come play with us until Gary left for business school, and, these last couple years, when I was the only one left and the orphanage shut down, Ash and I used to hang out together sometimes."

"That's really interesting," Misty said. "Did your mother have natural immunity?"

"Yeah, that's why she got the position. She was originally from Saffron, but she moved to where they needed help."

"Both of my parents have natural immunity, too," Misty smiled sadly, thinking of them. "So do my sisters Lily and Violet."

"My parents were just young and lucky." Kyle shrugged.

"So were Ash's," Jenny said. "That's what my mom told me, anyway. I never met Ash's dad. If it wasn't for Gary's family, I wouldn't have even known that fathers existed."

"That seems to be a pretty common story these days," Misty said sadly. "Do you mind if I ask – where did you get your name? It's..."

"Pretty weird for a girl who's not a police officer in training?" Jenny finished. "Yeah, I get that a lot. I'm actually named after the original."

"Really!"

Jenny nodded. "The original Jenny and my mom were childhood friends. Jenny was a little older, so she discovered her immunity first. When she volunteered herself to be the model for all the police officers that Kanto needed, my mom was so inspired by her dedication and sacrifice. She really cared about protecting the innocent and standing up for law and order in a time when the disease was sowing chaos."

"I've never thought about it that way," Misty said. "My parents always talked about running the gym like it was their duty, something that they only did because they had to. They always hated it."

Her eyes watered, not because of what she had said but because of what she hadn't. It wasn't only running the gym that her parents had hated. "Running the gym" was just the code for what was never really said. They hated the duty of being parents.

The plague that had swept across the regions in her parents' time had devastated the population. Striking first at the elderly, it had grown in strength until it claimed the lives of nearly every adult in Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, and more. While children were mostly safe, their chances of catching it increased with every passing year, so that they were always killed before reaching adulthood.

The exception to the rule were the rare few who possessed a natural immunity. They would catch the disease just like all the others, but, instead of killing them, it would change them. The most visible sign of the change was that their hair would turn from ordinary blonde, brown, black, or red to fantastic shades like pink and blue and green, so that one could always pick out a survivor.

Survivors like the original Jenny and the original Joy had been used as models for clones, designed to fill the two most highly-demanded professions: police to keep order in the midst of the apocalypse, and nurses to care for and quarantine the disease. Other survivors had volunteered themselves as research subjects for the scientists racing for a cure (most ended up becoming the scientists studying themselves as the originals died and left their work behind), while still others had been given whatever positions of authority or public service that remained. In the case of Jenny's mother, like many others, it had been running an orphanage. For Misty's parents, it had been the Cerulean City Pokémon gym.

Survivors like the original Jenny had apparently volunteered to do everything in their power to help those in need. The way that Misty's parents had always told the story, though, it was the outside forces of the dying world that had placed an enormous burden of pressure on their shoulders. Both just eighteen at the time that the plague struck, they were unprepared for the horrors they would witness.

They had been dating, but "not seriously". When both contracted the disease and both came out alive, the dying people of Cerulean City saw the pair as the manifestation of the only hope remaining for humanity. They were given the charge of the city gym, but they understood what was truly expected of them. They married and gave birth to twins. Daisy was blonde, but Violet was born with hair of striking blue. The entire world rejoiced.

Pink-haired Lily followed three years later, but, just after Misty's mother had discovered she was pregnant yet again, the cure for the disease was finally discovered. Misty was born with normal red hair, but no one really cared anymore. Her parents stopped having children.

To their credit, they had waited six more years. They left on Daisy and Violet's thirteenth birthday, the day that the two girls were legally old enough to act as guardians for their two younger sisters.

Misty's parents always said that they hated their duties at the gym. They really meant that they had never wanted to be parents.

Realizing that she was tearing up, Misty looked back at the light above the operating room. "I really hope that Pikachu's ok."

"I'm sure of it," Jenny reassured her. "Nurse Joy can take all the time she needs; Kyle and I don't mind waiting. It's nice talking to you. Right, Kyle?"

Kyle was looking out the row of windows at the front of the building. "Do people in Viridian City travel by hot air balloon all the time? That's a neat way to travel over all the old abandoned areas." He pointed.

In the distance, a large off-white balloon with ears floated closer.

Misty squinted. "It looks kind of like there's a face painted on it. Like a Meowth! I've never seen something like that before."

"It looks like it's coming this way," Jenny added. "I hope we get to meet whoever is inside. Anyone with a hot air balloon like that must be fun!"

***

"Isn't the balloon a bit obvious?" Jessie asked, flicking her long magenta hair over her shoulder.

"Not at all," Meowth replied. "Team Rocket is known for secrecy. That's what the police are expecting. When we come in with a bang, they'll think we have to be just friendly visitors."

"Does it have to be shaped like your head?" James asked, leaning against the edge of the basket.

"I'm the top cat," Meowth replied. "I get to chose what the balloon looks like and give you your orders. And so far I've never been caught by any of the public. Your faces are on wanted posters, not mine."

"Not yet," James muttered.

Meowth frowned. No doubt the human thought he was speaking softly enough to not be heard, but he forgot that his companion had the large and sensitive ears of a cat Pokémon. Meowth walked and talked like a human, but he was still a Pokémon, with all the physical traits of one.

He chose to ignore the statement for now, since overhearing such mutterings could prove vital in the future with this team. He had been given charge of it by Giovanni only a week ago, and Jessie and James were proving rather obstinate.

Meowth was convinced that their first mission had been a failure because of their refusal to follow orders. They'd had to kill the Fearow that they were supposed to capture just to make their escape, and they hadn't even managed to catch the littler Pokémon that could be sold off for a profit.

Sending rare and powerful Pokémon back to the boss would earn them a bounty, but it took time and resources to work up to the ones that really paid. All Team Rocket grunts working in the field got by on the money that they made selling ordinary Pokémon on the black market. If he couldn't get these humans into line for their next mission, they would soon run out of money for food.

"Do we know the plan?" Meowth asked impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah. We break in through the skylight, take out the nurse, and grab all the pokéballs we can," James recited.

Meowth nodded. "Go for the high-end ones like Great Balls and Ultra Balls, and avoid anything that's obviously weak and useless."

"Define useless," Jessie said, crossing her arms over the "R" on her uniform shirt.

"Like a Weedle or a Rattata."

"Even a top percentage one?"

Meowth ignored that. "Basically anything you could pick up for a dime a dozen around Viridian Forest. Caterpie, Pidgey, Pikachu... All that stuff is worthless."

"If it's worthless, does that mean we're allowed to kill it if it stands in our way?" Jessie asked.

Meowth knew she was still sulking over the Fearow incident. "Sure, whatever."

It wasn't worth the fight. There was no way they were going to actually find themselves in that kind of situation. This was just a simple smash and grab. It wasn't as if anything that happened here was going to drastically affect the course of their entire mission. Better to satisfy that bloodlust now than have it come back to bite him later. If Jessie really wanted to kill something, she could be his guest.


	9. Episode 2:3 - Smash and Grab

The Dodrio that lived outside the Ketchum residence settled down in his favorite patch of lawn, ruffling his large brown feathers contentedly. He'd had a long day settling disputed territory lines and migration paths with the Pidgey flock to the north, a series of long and heated arguments that had only ended in concessions after a full half hour spent in getting their feathers soaked with rain. He was thankful for the thunderstorm that had secured his rights to the northern edge of Pallet Town, but it also made him eager for a nice long rest before his meeting with the new leader of the Spearow tomorrow.

Coming home is always a relief for a bird with weary wings and an empty belly, but the Dodrio was even more satisfied on this particular evening because the day had finally come. Finally, Delia's troublesome little brat had left the nest. As he settled his three heads into position on the pillowed feathers of his back and closed his eyes, he reflected that his future would hold nothing more than peace and quiet.

When he heard the sound of footsteps rustling through the grass, his sleepy mind only found it a bit unexpected that Delia was coming home from work so late. It was only when he heard the rustling of a paper bag that he lifted up a single head. He popped open two of his six eyes, belly already grumbling in expectation of the scraps.

Unfortunately, what Delia pulled out of the small paper bag was not edible at all. It was a spherical object, red on top, white on the bottom, and she was pointing it at him.

Four eyes opened, three beaks cried out in shock, and two wings flapped madly before he had even risen to his feet. Had this been her plan all along? To lull him into a false sense of security so that one day she could catch him in his sleep?

The brown-haired woman stopped in her tracks as he staggered up onto his scrawny legs. She took a cautious step forward, and he squawked, slashing the air in front of her with his beak.

She held up an open palm not holding the Poké Ball. "Dodrio, please. I only need you for tonight."

Sure, he'd heard that one before. Well, actually he hadn't, but that certainly didn't mean that he could trust her. Who was this woman who went rushing around with Poké Balls in hand? The Delia he knew had never even touched one, but, eyeing the skillful way she cradled it in her right hand, he could see that this was all a lie. The woman had secrets she had never shown, and he saw this as a betrayal of everything that had existed between them.

He had enjoyed his relationship with Delia for the exact reason that it was so pure and simple. She was a kind woman who patiently bore the strain of her regretful progeny. He was a solitary Pokémon who found this sleepy little town to his liking. She gave him food. He woke her family in the mornings. They had mutual respect and a very pleasant measure of aloofness. And now she had to go and ruin it.

She took a few steps closer, and he kicked his left foot, just nicking the loose fabric of her shirt with his talons. That was a warning shot.

"I didn't want to do this," she said, "but—"

He didn't let her finish. He charged, leveling his center head like a battering ram. His second and third heads watched her jump to the side and stuff the Poké Ball into her pocket. He turned and went for a peck, only to find the long point of his beak met by a sneakered foot that snapped back his right-most head.

She moved to the right, and he struck out with his center head, only to find she had been feinting. Before he knew it, she had jumped directly onto his back. He flicked his long red tail feathers in anger and gave a sudden jerk, but she grabbed onto his necks with both hands. As she squeezed them together, his heads collided with a thunk.

"Listen to me," she cried.

He jerked and spun again, but she held on like a trained rider.

"I need you to take me to Viridian City."

He squawked with all three beaks as loudly as he could, jumped in the air, and took a hard left immediately upon landing. She turned and lowered a single foot and tripped him. As he sprawled in the grass, she grabbed hold of a beak and turned its head to face her.

"Ash is in trouble, and you're the only one that I can count on. I will keep this up all night until you agree to help me."

He clicked both his other beaks in a gesture of annoyance. Of course it was the kid again. Even after he left, he was still out there causing problems. Obviously Delia was angered by the shame that he was bringing down upon her house. The brat had gone one step too far and was finally in store for the lesson that was so long overdue.

The Dodrio still didn't know where this fierce and experienced side of Delia had come from, but he did rather enjoy the thought of fighting by her side to mete out justice. She had taken him down so easily, after all, that he suddenly felt a total confidence in her abilities as a trainer.

Afterwards, he would always tell himself that these were the reasons that he finally gave in. It was certainly not because he was tired and hungry and had bruised both his knees and gotten bumps on all three heads and longed for nothing more than the rest that he would never be granted with a half-crazed mother wrestling him into submission. And it was certainly not because he had a soft spot for the woman that prevented him from using one of the many powerful attacks he knew. He hadn't refrained from felling her with a single Tri Attack for fear of hurting her, and he hadn't allowed himself to be captured because he secretly liked her a little.

Obviously that couldn't be the reason because he had no sooner gone into that Poké Ball than he was being called back out of it to run beside a bicycle flying down the northern road. She didn't even offer him a snack first. All she said was: "I think I'll call you Drio."

***

It had grown dark by the time the light above the operating room finally blinked off. The door opened for Nurse Joy, who was wheeling out the stretcher. Pikachu lay atop it, heavily bandaged and unconscious.

"Is he going to be ok?" Misty asked.

"This Pikachu will be just fine," she replied. "All he needs is lots of rest and care. I'll be taking him to the recovery room now, and it would be best if you left him there to sleep."

"I guess I'll be taking a room for the night, then," Misty said.

"And us, too," Kyle chimed in.

Nurse Joy nodded. "I'll take care of it as soon as I get him settled."

She wheeled off down the hallway with her two exhausted-looking Chansey trudging along behind.

Jenny, Kyle, and Misty all stood up and stretched.

"Well, I think we'll be healing our Pokémon and heading off to bed," Kyle said. "I feel almost as tired as our Pokémon must be."

"It was nice to meet you," Jenny said. "I hope—"

She was cut off by the crash of shattered glass. Clouds of gray smoke began pouring into the room, rising up from an area of the floor. Above it was a broken skylight, through which Misty's eyes just caught the shiny red surfaces of twin Poké Balls raining down.

All three trainers jumped back, coughing, as flashes of light within the smoke indicated Pokémon being released. The smoke had risen up to the ceiling now, and, as three shadowy figures descended from the broken skylight, Misty couldn't make out any of their features. What she did see was a jumbled confusion – at one moment a strip of black clothing, at the next a gloved hand grasping a rope, and then a tight brown curl that didn't seem like any part of a human or a rope at all.

"Starmie, Staryu, go!" Misty coughed, throwing out two of her three Poké Balls. "Rapid Spin!"

Staryu leapt into the air, spinning end over end of its star-shaped body and disappearing into the smoke. The larger purple Pokémon, however, spun around and jumped straight up. Keeping the lower two points of its main star positioned towards the ground, it spun the second star attached to its back around and around like the blades of a fan, blowing the smoke away from Misty and the others.

Staryu hit the floor with a clack, the only sign of it beyond the veil of smoke.

"Ekans, use Acid," said a female voice.

"Use Sludge, Koffing," a male voice added.

The sounds of the poison attacks splattering against Staryu's armor struck a note of fear. Villains who would attack a Pokémon two on one might stop at nothing to get what they wanted. They could melt away entire parts of Staryu's body using acid, and Misty couldn't even see what was happening.

"Staryu, get out of there!"

Starmie had continued to jump up and down with its Rapid Spins to drive away the smoke, but it was still pouring out from its source.

"Wrap it!" she heard from beyond the smoke.

As Starmie came down from its latest jump, she ordered, "Use Water Gun on the floor."

She heard a cry from Staryu, who still had not come back. As Starmie turned its water on the source of the smoke, she heard an order for more Sludge.

The Water Gun attack ceased, revealing four partially burnt out smoke bombs. As the last of the smoke rose to the ceiling, Misty saw her Pokémon slanting towards the floor, held in place by the purple and yellow coils of an Ekans that were wrapped around the spaces between its points. The head of the snake was positioned directly above the circular red jewel at Staryu's center, spraying acid from its cavernous mouth at point-blank range.

This central part of Staryu was the core. Any point of the star that was lost could be re-grown, but the core was the one essential piece to the life of the Pokémon with its healthy red glow. The core had to remain intact for Staryu to live, and, as Koffing's Sludge joined with Ekans's acid, Misty saw that it was growing faint, blinking slowly off and on.

Then the lights went out, and the Pokémon Center was plunged into darkness.

***

Nurse Joy had barely finished settling Pikachu into his place in the recovery room when she heard a crash. She ran to the automatic doors and down the hallway from which she had come, finding the lobby filled with smoke and the sounds of a Pokémon battle.

The red-haired girl and the two young trainers who had requested rooms for the night were standing behind a Starmie that jumped up and down in its continuous attempts to blow the smoke away from them. The sight of the water Pokémon triggered Nurse Joy's memory, causing her to realize where she had seen the red-haired girl before. This must be the youngest of the sisters who ran the Cerulean City gym.

The two beside her turned around with looks of panic. The boy lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a single Poké Ball in his belt, but his fingers hesitated to grasp it. The girl caught sight of her and ran, grabbing the boy's arm to drag him along.

"Nurse Joy, what do we do? These people are attacking!"

"And our only Pokémon are completely worn out," the boy added frantically.

"We need to save the Pokémon," Nurse Joy replied, "follow me!"

She cast one final look of worry at the young gym leader before leading the two younger trainers back down the hall. The Poké Ball storage room was just beyond the recovery room, but, before they could get even halfway there, all the lights went out.

"They must have cut the power. We'll have to start the backup." Nurse Joy turned off course, holding out a penlight from her pocket and taking the girl's hand. She took the boy's, and Nurse Joy turned the penlight forward as she pushed through the only non-automatic door in this part of the building.

Once inside, she handed the light to the girl and went to the bowl-shaped Poké Ball container fixed to the wall. Reaching in with both hands, she threw out Poké Ball after Poké Ball, each one responding to her touch. The room filled with bursts of yellow light, flashing on and off sporadically until the entire room lit up to reveal an army of Pikachu holding their paws to an exposed power line. Their faces fixed with expressions of effort and determination as they poured all of their stored power into the essential systems for the hospital.

Nurse Joy continued throwing Poké Balls until none were left, leaving Pikachu to spare as replacements for those who grew worn out. Then she beckoned to the two young trainers.

"We have to save the Pokémon now. If we don't transfer all of those entrusted to our care to the Pokémon Center in Pewter, there's no telling what the intruders will do to them.

"What about Misty?" the girl cried.

"Pikachu 1, 2, and 3, guard our patient. Pikachu 4, 5, and 6, find the Chansey and bring them to the lobby. Try to protect them as best you can."

"The Chansey? But they can't do anything in battle, they're only good for... Oh," the boy stopped abruptly. "You think that Misty's Pokémon are going to need healing."

Nurse Joy set her mouth tightly. "Pikachu 7, 8, and 9 with us. Come on."

As she rushed out the door, she didn't say what she was really thinking. She hoped that the Chansey would only be needed to heal the damage caused to Misty's Pokémon by a fair and honest battle, but she feared they would be needed for far worse. They might be called upon to save lives tonight — the Pokémon's... or even Misty's.


	10. Episode 2:4 - Not So Fast

Meowth pounced behind a corner as soon as his back paws hit the tiled floor of the Pokémon Center. He was covered by the double protection of the smoke bombs and the distraction of Jessie and James, but he couldn't be too careful. This was his first ever mission involving humans, and he didn't want to be pegged for a wanted poster if he could help it. A Meowth that walks on two legs and speaks like a human? By that description alone, he would be hunted every place he went. No, it was absolutely imperative for him not to be discovered.

That was why he used his claws to cut the lights. Humans couldn't see well in the dark, but a cat Pokémon could. Too bad for Jessie and James; his was the important portion of this mission.

His sensitive ears picked up Nurse Joy's voice coming from the hallway to the left. What was she doing here? He'd given Jessie and James just one job – keep the humans away. He'd given them completely free rein. They could have distracted the humans. They could have knocked them out and tied them up. They could have chased them into a corner or a dead-end hallway. But no, judging by the sounds of a pitched battle from the main lobby area, they had chosen the thrill of violence over the necessities of the mission.

This was the debacle on Route 1 all over again. Jessie had honed in on the most powerful Pokémon of the lot and simply couldn't let it go. A single uncooperative Fearow couldn't have done anything to unravel their plan, but Jessie had insisted that they make an example of it. James, of course, had followed her example. Meowth had sense. He had arranged the perfect plan. Giovanni had made him into the leader, but neither human treated him like one.

The Fearow had died, every Pokémon in the forest had been stoked into a blind rage, and Team Rocket had fled for their lives. Meowth was certain, without even seeing into the lobby, that Jessie had found herself another Fearow. Did those humans never learn?

Nurse Joy was talking about a backup generator. Meowth heard the sound of her and two other humans rushing into a room whose door opened with a creak of hinges. That was checkmate. The lights would come back on, they would be identified, the police would be called, and it would be all that Meowth could do to get his team out safely.

He had just one shot at salvaging this. He turned into the hallway, walking on the soft pads of his paws to avoid being heard. The fact that the backup generator was located off this hallway meant that it contained something other than rooms for long-term patients and visiting trainers. One of them had to be designated for rare Pokémon storage; he just had to test his luck.

He turned to the first door on his right and slid his claws into the crack between the two doors. Since they were made to be automatic, they slid apart easily. Although he only needed a Meowth-sized hole, he widened the space enough to make it appear as though a human had come through.

Unfortunately, the room held little more than a cot, an IV stand, and various monitors blinking away on what he assumed to be battery power. He jumped up onto the foot of the cot, imagining the possibility of an injured Ditto or Dratini. Instead, he saw a Pikachu. A pretty beaten up Pikachu at that.

His lips curled in a human-like gesture of annoyance. Just a worthless rodent. To call it a glorified Rattata would be generous.

He made it out the door just before the lights came back on. He ducked behind the corner and twisted his ears in the direction of the generator room. The voices and thumps of footsteps grew slowly louder. He heard an automatic door slide open and poked his head around. Two kids, one Nurse Joy, and three more Pikachu ran into the room directly across the hall from the injured Pikachu. That was the door he should have gone in. Now it was too late.

He boiled over with anger, just barely containing it within his twitching claws by the thought that he couldn't give them an excuse. If he lost it now, Jessie and James would only blame the failure of the mission on him. They might do that anyway, but at least this way it would be absolutely unjust. If they were all going to get hauled in front of the boss for this, he was going to stand tall in the knowledge that he had been right. Whatever happened now, it was not because of Meowth.

***

"Staryu!" Misty cried. She had seen her Pokémon just a second before, its light blinking in tune to its pain, clearly on the verge of passing out. Then everything plunged into darkness. She held Staryu's pokéball in her hand, but she didn't know where to aim it.

She heard a harsh swishing sound next to her and knew that Starmie had stopped fanning away smoke and leapt into the fray.

She moved the Poké Ball side to side, up and down as her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. She knew that Staryu would appear as light while returning to the pokéball, but she saw nothing. She swirled it in a desperate circle.

"Switch to Starmie," she heard the man's voice order.

A lump caught in her throat. Did that mean Staryu was...?

A hand grabbed her wrist.

"Here, let me help you," the woman's voice sneered.

Her wrist was jerked to the right, and a beam of light briefly lit the scene. Starmie was fighting a slightly-wounded Ekans and Koffing near a man with bright blue hair and a pointed nose. The woman holding her wrist had long magenta hair slicked out to a curved point. She was wearing the black version of the Team Rocket uniform and a pair of night-vision goggles, and her red-painted lips were curved into a smile.

The flash of light faded. Though she tried to yank her wrist away, the woman applied a sudden harsh pressure that loosened Misty's grip on the Poké Ball. She felt it pulled from her grasp.

"Staryu!" She kicked out into the darkness and felt her foot connect with something.

The woman groaned in pain. "You stupid girl."

There was a punch to her stomach. She doubled over, receiving a second punch to her left cheek, but it felt cold and hard. Misty had never been punched before, but she knew it wasn't meant to feel like her cheekbones could shatter. She was being hit with her own Poké Ball. Tears ran down her cheeks from the pain.

"You've bruised my leg!" the woman screeched.

The next punch sent her to the floor.

The lights came back on to show the woman standing over her, every feature etched with rage as she yanked off the goggles.

"Jessie!" shouted the blue-haired man. "Jessie, we have to go. The lights!"

Jessie swore profusely. "We gave Meowth one job!"

"He gave it to himself," the man corrected. His face held a sheepish expression that, combined with the slight bend of his head, suggested that he was half-expecting to be met with a slap.

"And he failed!"

"Jessie, we have to get out of here." He returned the Koffing, which had been hit particularly badly by a blast of water from Starmie.

"Not yet, James. I don't even want this lousy Staryu." She threw the Poké Ball across the room with such force that it shattered a computer monitor.

"Jessie, that Staryu could be money."

"Meowth better have stolen something better."

Misty was distracted from their argument by the arrival of two Chansey. Escorted by three Pikachu, they rushed up to her as quickly as their tiny, legless feet could carry them.

James reacted to the Pikachu with fear, but Jessie snorted. She ordered Ekans to wrap around Starmie. The thick purple snake did so, hiding its head behind Starmie's back so that the only portion of its body visible to the Pikachu were coils tightly encircling the water Pokémon. Any electric attack would hit Misty's Pokémon instead of Jessie's. Two Pikachu growled in frustration, while the third dashed towards the entwined Pokémon.

James snatched up Starmie by its bottom two points before the Pikachu could sink in teeth and claws. He held the purple star Pokémon up above his head, with the Ekans still wrapped around it, making a ridiculous picture. "Let's take this one and get out of here!"

Feeling a bit less pain thanks to the Chansey, Misty rose up from the floor. "Give me back my Starmie!"

Jessie kicked her in the chest.

"Pika!" The Pikachu closest to Jessie gave a burst of electricity that made her shriek and fall to the floor beside Misty.

James's eyes widened and he let out a protracted, "Ah!" He made a run for the wide row of glass doors at the front of the building.

Starmie spun the star on its back clockwise and counter clockwise, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the snake Pokémon whose coils stopped each spin in its tracks.

With a huff of pain, Misty got up again and ran to catch up, but, before the man had even reached the door, a mess of lights and sirens pierced through the glass.

James dropped Starmie (whose lower right point made a sizeable dent in the floor) and raised his hands even higher above his head. "I surrender!"

Jessie struggled up onto her elbow with a groan. "James, you coward."

Officers came rushing in.

***

Meowth had been watching everything. He'd hoped to see Jessie finish with the girl so that he could order her and James after Nurse Joy and the kids. They could still use Koffing for a smoke screen and Ekans for drawing them away. He knew it was a last-ditch shot, though. Naturally, when he heard the police sirens, he had his back-up plan prepared.

Jessie and James were going to face the consequences of their actions, but he was going to prove exactly why they should listen to his plans. He was more clever than both of them combined.

He ran back into the room with the injured Pikachu and jumped onto the cot, just like before. Unlike before, the Pokémon's eyes opened and sparks flew from its cheeks. Meowth didn't have time to react. The attack hit directly in the center of his forehead, surging out from his embedded gold coin.

One Pikachu, a severely injured Pikachu, causing an attack of this magnitude? Meowth was filled with awe in spite of himself. Then he blacked out.

When he awoke, the wailing of the sirens had stopped. He was still at the end of the cot with the injured Pikachu, who seemed to have passed out again from the strain of its attack. His eyes darted all around, trying to find out what had happened and how much the humans knew. He kept his mouth shut tight.

From the hallway, he heard Nurse Joy say that she was going to check the patient. He had no choice but to go back to his original plan. With his right paw, he grabbed the Pikachu's Poké Ball. He jumped off the cot just as the door opened.

"A Meowth?" Nurse Joy gasped.

He ran past her on three paws, trying to maintain the appearance of a "normal" Meowth as much as possible. Realizing that a normal Meowth wouldn't run like this, either, he popped the Poké Ball into his mouth, trying to resist the urge to gag, and ran on all four paws.

He ran straight across the hall. Inside the room, a mechanical arm was lifting Poké Balls one by one off the shelves and placing them on a conveyor belt that inched them forward at a constant pace. The transfer was still in progress.

"Hey!" One of the kids was still in the room as well. He ran forward and made a grab for Meowth.

The boy's fingers caught the curl of his tail, and he bit down on the Poké Ball to keep himself from crying out. He turned around and delivered a Fury Swipes to the kid's arms, coating them in bloody lines.

Before the screams could summon the police, Meowth jumped onto the conveyor belt. In the center, a bright light flashed at constant intervals. As the Poké Balls inched up to it, they disappeared. The Poké Ball and the Pokémon inside were transferred to some other Pokémon Center. Meowth was hoping it wasn't sensitive enough to register an error when the Poké Ball was inside the Pokémon instead of the other way around. He jumped into the beam of light.


	11. Episode 2:5 - The Wheels are Turning (Though One is Not)

Delia was panting for breath by the time she reached Viridian City. It would have been one thing if she had ridden her bike the entire way—she was severely out of shape, after all—but she'd spent the whole last portion of the journey lugging around a stranger's bike on foot. Normally, she would call that "walking" the bike, like walking a dog. That would have meant holding on to the seat and handlebars to keep it upright and on-course while the wheels gently turned. No, she had wrestled with this bike.

The front wheel was broken so that it would no longer turn a complete circle, the chain was broken, and every piece bore strange char marks, as if lightning had struck somewhere close by after Ash had wisely abandoned it. It was strange because she would have expected lightning to strike the metal of the bike itself, given that she had found it in an open area with no other likely targets nearby. Well, she was just happy that Ash hadn't been struck before realizing the dangers of riding a metal object during a lightning storm.

When Delia had caught her breath, she turned to Drio. The bird Pokémon was one third asleep—the center head was using the other two as pillows. The left and right heads looked tired and grumpy and generally unsatisfied with the arrangement. She restrained a smile.

"Stay with the bike."

The Dodrio dropped to the ground immediately, two more heads falling fast asleep. He would wake up if anyone got close to the bike, Delia reasoned. It wasn't really a bike worth stealing in this condition, anyway.

She marched into Viridian City, stirring up her anger with every step. She slammed open the door of the police station, prepared to give a piece of her mind to whichever Jenny she caught sight of first.

The station was empty. There was no officer behind the desk, no sign of anyone on patrol, and no indication of what was going on.

"Ash?" she called out, walking towards a heavy metal door that probably led to the jail cells.

There was no response. She pushed against the door, but it refused to budge. There was no handle. She made a lap of the room and found two more doors that were both locked. Just as she was getting ready to go back and order Drio to fly around the city until he found the missing officers, their sirens blared up to the door.

The first Jenny in ordered her to stand aside. A second later, a throng of others squeezed through the small opening, escorting two strange people at the center. At first, Delia only saw the hair that identified them as naturally immune, but, as Jennys shifted, she caught sight of the uniforms they were wearing.

All of the officers were talking at once, arguing about what to do with the prisoners.

"They're under my jurisdiction," argued an officer with the symbol of Viridian City on her hat.

"They've committed crimes across the region," argued another.

"You don't have room for them," another added.

"That's not true. I have one cell back there with just a kid in it."

"Excuse me?" Delia said loudly. "You are not putting two Team Rocket goons into a jail cell with my son!"

The Viridian City Jenny turned. "Your son, is he? Well, you should have taught him not to steal things that don't belong to him."

"He borrowed it."

She snorted. "Borrowed it? He never brought it back."

"I brought it back."

Viridian Jenny frowned.

"I know it's damaged quite badly, but—"

"Damaged? What happened to it?" A girl with red hair pushed her way out of the crowd. Her face was badly swollen, and she grimaced from the pain of movement. Even so, she managed to bring forth a scowl.

Delia had seen much worse on her travels as a child, but she couldn't help flooding with concern. Clearly this was the owner of the stolen bike. "Are you alright? Surely Ash didn't—"

"No," the girl interrupted fiercely. "It was those Team Rocket thugs, but I'm not going back to the Pokémon Center until I've told these officers exactly what they did to me. What I want to know is what Ash did to my bike."

"It looks like he crashed it," Delia admitted guiltily. She didn't know why she was feeling guilty when Ash had been the one to do something wrong, but she somehow felt it for him. "The front wheel is badly dented, the chain is snapped, the paint is—"

"It's completely broken?" the girl interrupted. Her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.

"I can offer you my bicycle in exchange."

"No! I want my bicycle!"

Delia was astonished, both by the words and by the manner in which the girl blinked her eyes. She must be in greater pain than Delia had suspected to be acting so irrationally.

"And you can have it. I'll give you both bicycles. I only meant that—"

"No, you don't understand," the girl protested. "That bicycle was special. I can't replace it. Not with anything."

"Can your bicycle be used to repair the original?" Viridian Jenny asked Delia.

"I wish it could, but I think the wheels are different sizes. Besides that, I don't know how to do any bicycle repairs. The only one who can fix damage that extensive is the man who made the bike, and you know as well as I do that his prices are more than a single mother can afford."

"You're only taking that woman's side because you want to let the bike thief go," another Jenny accused. "You want to clear out your cell in order to keep the new prisoners here."

Viridian Jenny huffed. "I am trying to lend aid to a distraught citizen."

"Oh, shut up," the man with blue hair said, drawing out each word. "Even I'm getting tired of this."

"Lock us up with the thieving brat and be done with it," his companion added.

"No!" Delia protested.

At the same time, the Jenny who was arguing said, "Doesn't anyone else think that it's suspicious that they want to be locked up here?"

"They're just lazy."

"No, they must be up to something."

"If they're planning a trick, isn't it dangerous to risk transporting them?"

"Excuse me!" the red-haired girl shouted. When quiet fell, she continued: "Those two deserve to be in prison. Ash doesn't. I can't get my bike back but..." She sighed. "I don't believe he broke it on purpose. You can keep your bike, Mrs. Ketchum. It wasn't you who took mine without asking."

"You're refusing to press charges?" Viridian Jenny asked.

The girl looked at the floor. "I guess so."

While Viridian Jenny glowed with the victory and the others set about the work of releasing Ash and putting the new prisoners in his place, Delia stepped closer to the girl.

"Thank you."

"It was nothing," she replied softly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand.

"I'll make sure my son raises the money to fix your bike," she said.

The girl looked up with new fierceness. "Oh, he'd better fix it. He owes me big time. I don't care what he says; I'm going to nag him all the way to the ends of the earth if that's what it takes to make him keep his promise to me."

"His promise?"

"He said he'd bring it back someday."

***

When Pikachu awoke, he dimly remembered having seen a Meowth at the end of the hospital bed his eyes now fixed on. Remembering his hallucination of Ash, he wondered if this was a stranger one.

He did seem to be in a Pokémon Center, though. He had never been inside of one before, but he had heard tales enough to recognize the whiteness and the bleached smell of everything. He felt his body wrapped in bandages beneath the white sheet of the bed he lay in and knew that someone must have treated him.

He turned his head and saw a Pikachu sitting on the counter next to him.

"How did I get here?" he asked slowly.

The Pikachu shrugged.

"What's going to happen to me now?"

Another shrug.

He remembered Ash's death. "Am I free?"

He didn't expect an answer to this last, but the Pikachu spoke up anyway, "the Meowth stole your pokéball. Three of us electrified him, but he got away. You didn't like the Poké Ball?"

Pikachu laughed grimly and shook his head.

He wondered about the questions that hadn't been answered. Had he been brought here by a person who would keep him now? What happened to Pokémon whose trainers were dead? What happened to Pokémon who had killed their trainers? He shuddered.

"Cold?" asked the Pikachu.

He shook his head again.

Whatever punishment there was, he probably deserved it. He'd been an innocent victim before, but he didn't know how he could live with himself now. He remembered the feeling of that uncontrollable electric surge, the incredible power it released. He recalled the feeling of that excess lightning flowing backwards and down instead of up to defeat his enemies. He felt, as if it were happening all over again, his body falling through the air and heard Ash's scream of agony. Agony. He squeezed his eyes closed tight.

"More pain meds?" the Pikachu beside him asked.

His breathing came in gasps. He had killed someone. He had really caused the death of a living, breathing human, a kid who had a family and friends and an entire future out ahead of him. As keenly as Pikachu had defended his own right to liberty as a living individual deserving of respect and proper treatment, so now he could not possibly deny Ash's right to a full and happy life as an equal individual. Pikachu had taken that from him. He twisted on the bed.

A dull thud marked the nearby Pikachu's leap down from the counter, and a skittering of claws indicated his departure. He was probably running for a Chansey, but the pain here was not physical.

Ash. He had hated that kid. He'd wanted nothing more than to be free from him, and, now that he was, he only wanted him alive. Even if it meant the worst things to come for Pikachu at Ash's hands, still it would be better than to live with this memory behind his eyelids, this guilt upon his back, and this wound inside his heart.

He heard the sliding door of the room open. "Go away," he told the Chansey.

"Pikachu?"

His eyes flew open. The Ash from his hallucination stood there in the doorway, his face mirroring the guilt and pain he himself had felt just milliseconds earlier. The Meowth from before wasn't a hallucination. Ash wasn't either. But how—?

Ash dashed forward and flung himself down upon the bed, wrapping Pikachu in the tightest of embraces.

"Pi...ka..." He huffed with the pain in his chest, tears running down his cheeks. It took everything he had not to shock the boy all over again.

"Pikachu, you're alive! I was so worried. I'm sorry that I wasn't here for you, but they arrested me..."

"How?" Pikachu asked. He wanted to know how Ash had survived, how he looked completely uninjured, but, of course, Ash didn't understand him. The human simply babbled on.

One thing was for sure, anything as painful as this was couldn't possibly be a dream or a hallucination. Ash had survived the lightning strike, and Pikachu was filled both with a glorious relief and a reminder of every reason why he had wanted to escape from him. At least the Poké Ball was gone.

***

Delia was waiting in the hallway when Ash exited the hospital room. "Ash, we need to talk about that Pokémon."

Ash groaned. "Can't it wait for morning? I'm exhausted."

"We also need to talk about Misty's bicycle, young man. Just because I got you out of jail does not mean that you will not face any consequences."

"I said I'd bring it back," Ash protested. "And I meant it."

"And just how do you intend to do that, Ash? Do you have any idea how expensive it is to repair a bicycle? And that's assuming that Gregory of Cerulean City will give you the time of day."

"I'll find a way. I'll save up all my money from battling."

Delia waited for her son to finish yawning before continuing. "Alright, but, if you're going to be battling, it will not be with that thing." She jabbed her finger at the door to the recovery room, beyond which an injured Pikachu was resting.

"Mom, I told you, I can't just abandon him."

"And you won't have to. I want you to trade him to me. You can go off and have your adventures and leave me to sort out the problem."

Ash's eyes widened. "But you don't have any Pokémon."

"I do now." Delia wasn't completely sure that Drio would be keen on the idea, but she did think she could convince him to stay with Ash at least for long enough to let him catch another Pokémon. He would also be incredibly helpful while travelling through Viridian Forest, and, most of all, she knew from experience that he wouldn't hurt a human even while being attacked by them.

"I..." Ash's expression clouded. "I can't give up Pikachu. I know we just met, but... he saved my life. And now he needs someone to watch over him. Nurse Joy said that it will take at least a week for him to recover without a Poké Ball, and I feel like that's the least I can do to repay him. You know?"

"Ash..."

"No!" Ash turned his face away, lips quivering ever so slightly. "No matter what you say, you can't make me give up Pikachu."

Delia knew a lost cause when she saw one. The boy was stubborn, just like his father, especially when it came to his ideals. She had never thought that his unflinching loyalty could be a trait that would work against him. She couldn't bear to break something so good.

She knew that it was Ash's heart that had forged a connection with the creature. How could she teach Ash to break away from someone he loved? Even if that love was small, formed through less than a day's journey, it was love. Would she teach Ash to break a heart, just like Cy had broken hers?

She gave a tiny nod. She knew Ash saw it, even though he was still pretending to look away. He responded by pretending to walk off in spite of her, putting the final cap on his stubborn refusal to obey her. When he reached the end of the hallway, though, his footsteps faltered.

He slowed to a stop and turned around to say: "Good night, Mom."


	12. Episode 2:6 - Premonition

Meowth ran. He ran out the door of the room he found himself teleported into. He ran down darkened hallways and an abandoned lobby, pausing only to claw open doors and consult the framed map hanging on the wall. Pewter City. He was far from his destination now, but not so far that he couldn't arrive by the end of the next day if he ran all night and hitched a ride or two when they came by in the morning.

He had to reach the boss, had to tell his side of the story before his good name was dragged through the mud by the two idiots under his command.

As he pried open the Pokémon Center doors, he moved the Poké Ball inside his mouth, preparing to spit it out as soon as he was clear of the security cameras. This was his only proof, his only prize. The Poké Ball of a Pikachu that could singlehandedly shock him into unconsciousness even while badly injured and severely weakened. Meowth knew that no normal Pikachu should be able to do that; he himself had always said that they were nothing more than weak little rodents not worth bothering with.

If he could make the boss believe his story, though, this particular rodent might make a mildly interesting research subject. If not worth the trouble of forcing cooperation with a series of tests and experiments, then at least a viable candidate for dissection. That was what rats were good for.

He spit the disgusting hunk of spit-covered metal into his front right paw and ran on two legs towards the forest. His front paws were already aching from improper use, and he had a far greater distance still to run. He comforted himself with the daydream of that Pikachu's intestines scattered all across a cold metal table.

***

Delia stumbled out of the Pokémon Center the following evening, struggling to resist the urge to hold a hand up to her head. Her skull was pounding, her vision darkening, little specks of light flickering across it.

She'd barely been able to excuse herself in time from the hospital room where she had been visiting her son. Luckily she was sure that Ash had been so preoccupied with fussing over his injured Pikachu that he hadn't noticed her strange turn.

She put her foot down on the ground outside the Center and wobbled a little as she took another step. Through the dimly lit pinpricks that were all that remained of her ability to see, there was an outline of trees. She knew that was Viridian Forest. She ordered her feet to walk towards it just as her vision blacked out entirely.

It only remained black for an instant before bursting into a full color image, a slideshow of moving pictures that flicked past too quickly for her to make sense of it: a panel of miniature television screens, a glass barrier, a patch of yellow fur. She felt a sense of dread, of terror, she heard her son's voice screaming in agony.

Her vision cleared. She was kneeling in the dirt, both hands clawing through her hair as if trying to rip out the pain inside. Forest trees surrounded her, and a figure slumped at the foot of one lifted tearstained eyes.

"Mrs. Ketchum?"

***

Gary wiped at his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. He'd heard a noise, a terrible moan, and there in front of him was Mrs. Ketchum. She looked tortured.

He leapt to his feet immediately. "Mrs. Ketchum, what's wrong?"

She was on her feet before he reached her.

"Nothing, nothing," she muttered. "Just a migraine. It will pass." Then, she seemed to notice him for the first time. "Gary?"

All of a sudden, he felt embarrassed. Wiping at his eyes again to make sure he'd gotten all the moisture, he replied. "Um, yeah."

Unfortunately, Mrs. Ketchum was not fooled. "Are you alright? Come closer."

Staring at the ground, he shuffled closer until she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

"Gary Oak, what are you doing out at the entrance to Viridian Forest all alone? Isn't your journey going well?"

"It's..." He looked down at the cuts and stings swelling on his arms, behind him to the un-hatched Spearow egg resting in its incubator near a tree root, and back to the woman who was carefully smoothing her rumpled hair back into its ponytail.

All of a sudden, he remembered the months he'd spent living at his grandfather's lab: his seven year old self running through town and battling imaginary foes while four year old Ash struggled to keep up with him, trotting back to the Ketchum residence for dinner as if he belonged there, being invited for a sleepover only to wake up at two am from a nightmare about his parents fighting and cry until Mrs. Ketchum tiptoed in to give him a hug and make him hot chocolate and tell him that everything was going to be ok.

He cast his eyes on the dirt and twigs and blurted out, "everything is going wrong."

He told Mrs. Ketchum about the Charmander that he hadn't gotten, the Squirtle that he had never used, and the lie that he'd told his father about both. He told her about the Spearow egg that hadn't hatched, about the day spent in Viridian forest chasing after Caterpie with a Butterfree net that left his hair matted with their sticky silk and his hands sore from trying to weaken a Metapod by punching it with his bare fists, which had ended with not a single Pokémon staying inside the Poké Balls he threw at them.

He told her about seeing Kyle and Jenny walk past as he sat in the branches of a tree overhead, kicking at a Kakuna in attempts to detach it from the trunk and damage it with the fall. He told her that he'd given up on the Kakuna in favor of forcing Kyle into trading Pokémon with him, which he had done not by trying to talk to him again but by initiating a complex strategy designed to make Kyle believe that Charmander was not a good Pokémon to protect him.

This strategy had involved throwing a match onto a low-hanging Beedrill hive while Kyle and his Charmander walked beneath it. The Beedrill had jumped to conclusions about the culprit. The Charmander had looked back at his flaming tail as if wondering whether he actually had caused the fire on accident. Jenny's Bulbasaur had immediately fallen victim to the Beedrill's super effective bug type attacks. Zero Squirtles had been present to put the fire out. Kyle, unfortunately, had spotted Gary.

Now there was an angry horde of Beedrill that made it impossible to pass through the forest without a single Pokémon for protection, and Kyle and Jenny would probably never even talk to him again.

Mrs. Ketchum listened to everything, not interrupting except to ask questions for clarification. At the end, she said, "Gary, I know what your father can be like. I understand that it's been hard on you, but you're sixteen years old now. You're out here on your very own Pokémon journey. You get to decide how you want to go through it, not your father."

"But don't you tell Ash what to do?" Gary protested, feeling angry that she was clearly winding up into a lecture about how he'd done bad things and should be sorry for them.

She looked a little sad. "Oh, Ash doesn't listen to me anymore."

Now Gary was angry for an entirely different reason. "That loser doesn't deserve to have a mother like you."

The corners of her mouth lifted briefly, but her expression quickly reversed course. "No, Gary, Ash is my son, and I love him. Nothing can ever change that. I'm sure your father loves you that way, too, even if he doesn't show it."

"Well I'm not." Gary kicked at a root.

"Gary," she sighed, "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that what you're doing is wrong. I know you would be happier if you reached out to people instead of closing off your heart and lashing out like this, but I also know I'm not your mom.

"Your dad is teaching you how to be a businessman, right? What if, instead of standing here giving you a lecture you won't listen to anyways, I offer you a deal?"

Gary raised his head, already feeling the familiar gears click into place. "A deal?"

Mrs. Ketchum nodded. "I'm worried about my son. I don't know how to explain this to you, but I know that he's in danger, or that he's going to be very soon. It's something to do with that Pikachu of his, but I can't separate the two of them. Now, before you say anything, I don't want you to do that, either. What I do want is for you to keep Ash safe. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Protect him from anyone else who wants to hurt him. If you do this for me, I will make sure that you get a Charmander."

"A Charmander?" Gary felt hope welling up inside his chest, enough to make him not even care that he would have to put up with a loser like Ash in order to see it realized. Just in time, though, his business sense prevailed. "Sure, that sounds reasonable, but how can I protect Ash when I don't even have a Pokémon to protect myself?"

Mrs. Ketchum smiled sadly. "I'll throw in an advance payment."

She reached into her pocket and threw out a Poké Ball. "Drio, go into the forest and bring back a Beedrill."

"Do?" The three headed bird Pokémon cocked its center head to the side, looking at Mrs. Ketchum as if she were crazy.

Mrs. Ketchum merely pointed in response. "That way."

The Dodrio narrowed all six of its eyes before turning around to sprint off into the trees. It was not long before he returned, holding one stinger arm in each of its right most beaks while the yellow and black bug buzzed its wings in a desperate attempt to free itself.

"Good boy," Mrs. Ketchum praised, patting the Dodrio's third head.

Gary threw a Poké Ball. When it stopped shaking, he picked it up, put it in the second slot of his Poké Ball belt, and reached out for a handshake. "Mrs. Ketchum, you've got yourself a deal."

***

Delia walked back to the Pokémon Center feeling somewhat better, mostly because she had at least accomplished something. The pounding in her head was completely gone now, which also would have made her feel better if she didn't have such a bad feeling about it.

She had a sinking suspicion that her "migraine" hadn't gone away because she'd fixed everything by getting Gary's help. She couldn't help but worry that whatever had triggered her episode wasn't a premonition anymore because it was already happening. Perhaps even as she took these very steps.


	13. Episode 3:1 - Ash Catches a Pokémon

"The boss will see you now," the blond-haired grunt informed him. She stepped aside and indicated the closed set of double doors with a sweeping motion of her arm.

Meowth looked up at the golden door handles, then back at the grunt. She was trying to suppress a smirk. In a fit of annoyance, he took two upright steps and a leap, catching the right handle with both front paws. It tilted downwards under the force of his weight, threatening to dislodge him. He resisted the urge to extend his claws, knowing that there was nothing for them to sink into in order to keep himself from slipping. Instead, he kicked out with his back left paw, trying to let the soft part of the pad touch the wood gently so as not to make a noise.

The door swung open as he slid from the handle. He landed neatly on two feet and grabbed the edge of the door with his front left paw, securing it and pulling it the rest of the way. He stepped through without looking at the woman, but a voice from the shadows called out to her.

"Close the door behind him, Leana."

Meowth turned to see her salute. The door swung shut, taking the light with it. The room he had entered was dark, lit only by the blue glow of blank television screens lining the far wall. They formed a shadow silhouette of the man who had his back to them. As his cat eyes adjusted, he saw the man seated in a leather chair with a female Persian curled around his feet. There was no chair opposite.

He walked forward until a dim spotlight flashed on overhead, illuminating the floor around him in a perfect circle. His heart thumped.

"You're a lucky one, Meowth," the voice from the shadows said. "Most humans cannot see me clearly in this lighting."

"You don't want to be seen, boss?"

He smirked. "You know who I am. It's allowable."

Meowth had been instructed never to refer to Giovanni by name, but he hadn't realized that the boss's identity was kept a secret even from certain members of Team Rocket. He had never been inside this room before, even during the time when he had been the boss's top cat. Speaking of which, it seemed that he had been replaced.

"You're staring at her," Giovanni observed.

The Persian at his feet perked up her ears and turned her eyes upon him lazily. Her feline body was long and lithe, its creamy fur soft and smooth. Her black-rimmed ears were perfectly round, her face perfectly proportioned. She wore the circular red gemstone in the center of her forehead like a tiara with a single shimmering focal point.

"Yes," Meowth said. "I'm sorry. It's just that you're very beautiful."

"Who is?" Giovanni said sharply.

Meowth froze, not knowing what he had said wrong.

"If you are speaking of Catherine, refer to her as such. Correct yourself," Giovanni ordered.

"What?"

"Catherine is to be spoken about. Repeat your sentence in the third person."

"She's very beautiful," Meowth tried hesitantly.

Giovanni's smile made his fur stand on end. "Good. You may admire her, but she is mine."

The boss reached out a hand and scratched her head. As if she had heard nothing of the previous conversation, she closed her eyes and let out a contented purr.

Meowth tried to force his eyes away.

"Now, what have you come to report?" Giovanni moved his fingers to scratch behind her ear.

He relayed the story of the failed robbery of the Viridian City Pokémon Center as briefly as possible, finding himself nearly stumbling over the words as Giovanni's hand moved to stroke the Persian from the head to the base of the neck.

"I brought the Poké Ball back with me as proof," he finally concluded.

"Yes." The hand that had been at the Persian's shoulder moved to Giovanni's suit coat pocket. "This was delivered to me upon your arrival."

"It doesn't look like much, but there's a very powerful Pikachu that was captured in it. I was thinking we could—"

Giovanni's hand slammed down on the armrest of his chair before Meowth could finish. "I want that Pikachu."

Meowth's face lit up. "Right away, boss! Just as soon as I get Jessie and James out of the slammer. We'll find it again."

Giovanni switched the Poké Ball to his left hand, dropping his right once more. The Persian at his feet stood up in response, allowing him to reach the full of her back. "I'll have to send some agents. This looks very messy for us. I hope you realize that, Meowth."

Meowth forced his eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry, boss. I won't let it happen again."

"Good. I want you to do whatever it takes to capture that Pikachu, but I want it alive and unimpaired. Understand?"

Meowth nodded. "Perfectly, boss."

He stood waiting as the room lapsed into silence. Giovanni massaged the Persian's lower back, just above her tail. She stood in what could only be described as mindless submission. Seconds ticked by. Meowth's breathing got quicker.

"Um, boss?" he asked finally. "C-can I have the Poké Ball back now?"

"You may leave, Meowth."

He turned and practically ran from the room, this time jumping up to swing the door away from himself. He didn't bother trying to close it, knowing that the female grunt was still on guard there. She would take care of it.

There was something not right about that Persian, but he tried to shift his mind to the mission at hand. He couldn't understand why the boss wanted him to catch the Pikachu without its Poké Ball. It was a matter of child's play for their scientists to reprogram it and remove the fingerprint locking. What easier way was there to steal a Pokémon than to return it to its own Poké Ball, held within a stranger's hand?

Perhaps the boss wanted him to prove himself, he concluded. His task would still be simple enough, even if a bit less fun. If the rodent was off limits, perhaps he could at least revenge himself upon its owner. He would just have to make sure Jessie didn't get to the kid first. A cat likes to play with his food before it dies.

***

The following morning, Ash convinced Nurse Joy that Pikachu was well enough to travel. He promised not to use him in battle for at least another day and to let him ride on top of his backpack for as long as he wanted. What Ash didn't know was that the nurse had only agreed because Misty had promised to watch his every move and to give him a proper beating if he mistreated the Pokémon in any way.

For her part, Misty still had a few terrific bruises, but there was no lasting damage and she'd done her best to cover the one on her cheek with makeup. She was prepared to leave as soon as Ash was, and, true to her word, she followed him into the woods.

She thought that she was being quiet, but it wasn't long before he turned around. She ducked behind a tree just in time to go unnoticed. Unfortunately, the next time she wasn't so lucky.

"Are you following me?" Ash demanded.

Misty, who had caught her foot on a rock and taken a bit of a tumble, looked up awkwardly. "Um..." She scrambled to her feet guiltily.

"Misty, right? I never thanked you for watching Pikachu for me after I got arrested."

"Yeah? Well you should be apologizing to me for destroying my bike." She put her hands on her hips in what she hoped was a slightly more dignified stance.

Ash turned his gaze to the forest floor. "I am sorry. I'm going to try to make it up to you, I promise."

"Oh, I know you will because I'm going to follow you until it's done."

"You don't have to do that. I always keep my promises."

"Funny thing: I don't trust the word of bicycle thieves."

"But that's not fair," Ash argued, raising his voice for the first time in the conversation. "I only borrowed it to save my Pikachu."

"Not this conversation again," Misty groaned. "Look, I have to travel through here anyway, so will you just shut up about it?"

"Fine." Ash turned angrily and started walking again.

Pikachu, who was riding atop his backpack, didn't even notice. He seemed to be out cold, heavily bandaged and sleeping through every step. Misty wondered what kind of pain meds they had him on. Must be the good stuff.

For a long time as Ash tromped through the forest, Misty did nothing except trace his steps and watch Pikachu's chest slowly rise and fall. It was because of this that she noticed immediately when Ash came to a jarring halt. Pikachu jerked forward into his neck and bounced back, landing right in Misty's outstretched arms.

"Ash! You have to be more careful," she reprimanded. Then, she saw what had made him stop and let out an ear-piercing shriek.

***

Cat was moseying along looking for the next batch of tasty leaves to eat. The others had all left him behind long ago. He didn't know where they had all gone, but he knew that he wanted to go with them. They had all hatched together. They'd rubbed antenna and chattered about the beauty of the greenery around them. They'd shared meals together and dreamed about the future. And now he missed them.

Cat didn't want to be alone, but he didn't know what he could do about it. Despite the huge black and yellow circles on either side of his head, his eyesight was really quite poor. The big "eyes" were really just spots to try to scare away bigger Pokémon. His real eyes were six in number, so tiny that they were never even seen by most, and they couldn't detect anything more than simple changes in light and dark. Not really "seeing" at all.

Cat dreamed about the day that he could see. He dreamed about the day that he could fly. They said that he could only get there by eating lots and getting stronger, so that's what he was doing.

He had no idea he'd stumbled across the path of a teenage boy until he heard him speak: "Look, a Pokémon!"

Cat turned his head, thinking: "What? Where?"

"Poké Ball, go!"

As he felt a weird tingling sensation run through his body, followed by a peculiar weightlessness, it finally clicked. "Oh," he thought. "This kid's a trainer. And he meant me."

Cat was flattered beyond belief. He went into the Poké Ball immediately.

***

When the Poké Ball clicked shut, Misty felt that she could finally breathe again. She let out one last tiny moan and tried to shake it out of her system.

"What's the matter, Misty?" Ash asked, bending down to pick up his new capture.

"I don't like bugs," Misty said with a shudder. She looked down at Pikachu, amazed that he was soundly asleep in her arms even after all the shaking and screaming. "And you should take better care of your Pikachu. He could have gotten hurt again."

"Do you think that I should hold him?" Ash asked. "He doesn't like it when I do that, so I just thought..."

"Well at least strap him on somehow," Misty argued. "Here."

She marched up to Ash and pushed against his shoulders to make him turn around. "Stop squirming," she chastised, snatching a roll of fresh bandages from the side pocket and using it to fashion a sort of harness that she then tied to the backpack's handle. "There."

Ash tried to turn his head around, but obviously failed to see a thing.

"Just trust me."

"Ok." Ash shrugged, then switched right into a smile. "Now I can celebrate. Pikachu, I know that you're asleep, but we just caught a Caterpie!"

Misty was thankful for the excellence of her knot tying skills as Ash launched into a victory dance involving a crouch, a tight twirl, and a sudden shot up into a victory stance, two fingers outstretched into the shape of a "V". Pikachu jerked left and right, up and down, but wasn't dislodged from his temporary bed.

"Why are you celebrating?" Misty asked. "You didn't even catch it properly. You're supposed to battle it with your Pokémon to weaken it."

"I know that," Ash said, sounding mildly insulted, "but I promised Nurse Joy that I wouldn't use Pikachu for battle. That's ok, I did it all by myself, see? And now we have a brand new friend!"

Misty didn't even know how to respond.

"Caterpie, come on out." He threw the Poké Ball up into the air.

Misty ran behind the nearest tree. "Ash, put that thing away!"

"Rrrri?" Caterpie trilled. It scooted closer to her.

Misty shrieked again.

"Aw, come on, Misty, Caterpie only wants to be your friend," Ash said.

"It's a disgusting bug," she cried. "I don't want to see it, I don't want to talk to it, I don't want it anywhere near me. Get it away, get it away, get it away!"

She cast a frightened gaze and saw the slimy thing hang its head.

"You made Caterpie sad," Ash accused. "You should apologize to it."

"Apologize to a bug?"

***

As the ridiculous argument continued, Gary Oak let out a sigh of utter frustration. This was the person he had to watch out for? A guy with a catatonic Pikachu, a Caterpie too weak to even put up a fight, and a companion who screamed at the mere sight of an insect? Oh, yes, his mother had been right to worry about him. He was a kid who had no idea the kind of dangers he was in for.

Gary was going to have to get creative if he was going to get this chump out of even just Viridian Forest alive. The only fortunate thing was that Ash's mom had chosen him, the great Gary Oak. Sure, he'd set loose a horde of Beedrill in this very forest, but that only proved his power, didn't it? With Gary Oak on the job, from now on, nothing could go wrong.


	14. Episode 3:2 - Viridian Night

Pikachu awoke to find himself staring up at the night sky. The night was cool, the stars were bright and twinkling, but his body hurt all over.

"Why am I not in a hospital?" he growled.

To his surprise, he actually received a response: "Beats me."

Pikachu recognized the dialect immediately and rolled onto his side with a groan. "You should get away from here before Ash wakes up. Not even a Caterpie is safe from him."

"Get away?" the Caterpie asked, tilting its head to the side. "But Ash is my new trainer."

"Oh no, what did he do?"

"I don't understand. Is Ash a bad human? He talked to me like he was nice. Misty is the one who doesn't like me." He hung his head sadly.

"Well that's a change. I guess that Ash is learning, but, trust me, you have to be careful around him."

Pikachu raised himself up just enough to see two sleeping bags laid out on the ground, one green and one pink. They were spread a good distance apart with a stump in between. He guessed that the pink sleeping bag was Misty's. He'd been told that she had saved his life from the near-drowning and had sat outside his operating room at the hospital, but he had never actually seen her yet, having been unconscious on both occasions.

"What is Misty like?" he asked the Caterpie.

"She screams a lot. And she's always mad at Ash."

Pikachu chuckled.

"I think she'd like me better as a Butterfree. She says I look like an ugly worm. I've never really seen a worm—I haven't really seen anything except for shadows—but it doesn't sound like something nice to be."

"You look like a normal Caterpie to me," Pikachu said.

"I want to be a Butterfree. I want to fly up there among the stars. You see them twinkling? Stars are the most beautiful things in the world to me. The night is darkness all around, but the stars are little bits of light. Light and dark. That's all I can see, but it's all I need to see the stars. I want to be beautiful like them."

"Ok, sure. You never answered my question, though. What did Ash do? How did he manage to capture you? And how is he keeping you from escaping right now?"

"Why would I want to escape?" the Caterpie asked. "Ash chose me. He saw me and threw the Poké Ball and—"

"Wait, you're telling me he threw a Poké Ball at you, without even battling you first, and you just went into it? How could you do that?"

The Caterpie drew back his upper body as if flinching away. "Because he wanted me."

"Do you have zero self-respect? You let a human enslave you? Happily? He could do anything he wants to you. He could hurt you. He could kill you. You're going to let him order you around, zap you in and out of confinement whenever he pleases, force you to fight battles for his entertainment? You would let him own you like that?"

Caterpie bent his head down to the ground and started cowering. "He said we would be friends," he whimpered.

Pikachu sighed. "You're just a kid, aren't you?"

"I hatched thirty days ago."

"And you believed that Ash was good," Pikachu said, slowly beginning to understand.

There was no response. The Caterpie was curling himself up into a tight little ball, with his long yellow tail tip coming to rest on the first section of his curved back.

"I think I've got some electricity back," Pikachu said. "I'll try to help you as much as I can. I'll help you become a Butterfree."

The Caterpie sniffled.

"If only Ash hadn't been fool enough to rush out of the hospital at the first possible instant," Pikachu thought angrily. "I'm glad I didn't kill him, but he just doesn't change." He shuddered, remembering the clothesline, the dragging, the near-drowning. Ash treating him like that was horrid enough. He never ever wanted that to happen to a sweet little kid who still believed the world was good.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Cat," the Caterpie replied, though the word was muffled from his mouth being pressed up against his stomach.

"You can still escape, Cat. No one's looking."

"Will you come with me?"

"Did you see all these bandages? I can't move."

Cat whispered something.

"What was that?"

"I don't want to be alone anymore."

That was the last word Pikachu could get out of him for the rest of the night.

***

Gary was asleep in the backseat of his car when he was awoken by a cracking sound. He looked out into the forest, dimly lit by the breaking dawn, and reached for the Poké Ball of his Beedrill. The cracking sound came again, and he realized that it was much closer than he had thought. It was inside the car with him.

He scrambled up to the front seat and picked up the egg container. His Spearow was hatching.

Gary watched with growing wonder as a tiny pink beak poked its way through the eggshell, slowly forming cracks and ripping out small sections at a time. By the time it had finally broken free, the sun was fully up, but Gary barely noticed the passage of time.

He carefully lifted the cover from the egg container, leaving just the circular base resting on the car seat. The bottom of the broken eggshell remained in the center, with pieces of it scattered on every side. The Spearow itself remained inside the tiny cup of the shell. It was absolutely tiny, perhaps about the length of Gary's thumb. It was pinkish colored, with just a thin coat of brown fuzz on its head and torso to cover up the skin. It gave a tiny, shrill chirp and lifted its beak straight up to the sky, begging to be fed.

Gary used a pair of tweezers to pick up one of the dried crickets he had bought and lowered it to the Spearow's head with a shaking hand. He hadn't expected the bird Pokémon to be so small and fragile. He was afraid that he would break it.

The Spearow saw the insect coming. It stretched up its neck and clamped down on it.

Startled, Gary loosened his grip on the tweezers. The cricket fell into the baby Spearow's beak and was swallowed down eagerly.

"That's not so bad," Gary said. "Hey, little guy. Or are you a little girl? That food is tasty, isn't it?"

He didn't even notice the wide smile on his face as he continued feeding it. He pulled out the book of instructions that he had bought and noted that he was meant to clean the Spearow's beak and then find it something suitable to act as a warm nest. He settled on a bowl lined with paper towels and transferred the Spearow very gently in his cupped hands.

"But how do I keep it warm?" he wondered aloud. The book recommended a heat lamp, and the man had sold him one, but Gary hadn't considered the fact that there was no way for him to plug it into his car.

The baby bird was shivering already, letting out more feeble chirps. "Spee, spee."

"I... I... How can I help you?" Gary asked. He wrapped his hands around the top of the bowl to try to block the morning breeze.

"Spee, spee."

Gary wracked his brain. Could he set the bowl on top of the car's heater if he only turned it on low? Would that dry out its skin? Did he have time to drive back into town and to the nearest Pokémon Center? What if he arrived too late?

The baby bird cried out more loudly than ever, and a cry responded: "Pidgeo!"

A three and a half foot tall bird smacked down into the dashboard, talons clicking angrily. Gary flinched back with a cry of pain as it pecked the back of his hand. The bird hopped toward the baby.

"No!" Gary cried, but the Pidgeotto stopped short of tipping over the makeshift nest. Instead, the larger bird lowered its head and let out a gentle coo.

"You're a mother bird?" Gary asked.

The Pidgeotto shook her head and gave a sweeping gesture with her wing.

"You used to be?"

A nod. The Pidgeotto pushed her head into the bowl and nuzzled the baby Spearow with the side of her face. She was obviously too large to fit into the bowl, but the gesture seemed to cause the baby to quiet. The Pidgeotto spent another minute nuzzling as it slowly stopped its shivering. Then, moving so quickly that Gary couldn't stop it, she hopped down from the dashboard and slammed her talons into the egg case on the seat. Glass shattered everywhere.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

The Pidgeotto ignored him, using her beak to chip away fragments of glass that clung to the metal top of the container.

"That's the heating element," Gary said. His eyes widened.

He took the circle of metal from the Pidgeotto and placed it upside down on the dashboard. He flipped the switch to turn it on, wrapped a towel around the edges for improved stability, and carefully set the makeshift nest on top.

"Thank you," he told the Pidgeotto.

The Pidgeotto looked at him accusingly.

"I was doing my best," he protested. "I have a book of instructions, see?"

"Dgeo," she said dismissively.

Gary's heart thudded. What if she was angry about more than his incompetence? Did she know that he had stolen the Spearow egg?

He was face to face with a bird more than half his size, and he was certain that she could eat his Beedrill for her breakfast.


	15. Episode 3:3 - Entomophobia

Ottidge glared at the teenage boy she'd found. His antique car was showy, and his brown hair was spiked arrogantly, but the worst thing of all was that he had kidnapped a baby Spearow.

She'd had chicks of her own before – tiny little hatchlings covered in fresh fuzz just like the little darling in that makeshift nest. She had cared for them as only a mother can, and this boy did not possess one single jot of maternal nature.

"I don't understand," the boy said, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.

Humans were so irritating. Ottidge pointed her wing to the baby Spearow sitting on his dashboard and shot him a glare. "I am angry about this," she thought at him. "Pick up my meaning!"

"I'll take care of it, I promise."

No, he wouldn't. She hopped onto the passenger seat and picked up a large piece of eggshell in her beak, thinking at him: "Where did you get this?" She couldn't possibly return the baby to her mother without any idea where she had come from.

"Huh?"

She used an enormous wing to slap him upside the head. He was playing dumb.

"Ow, what was that for?"

She dropped the eggshell and lunged towards him.

Gary pressed his back against the opposite door, crying out before she could get closer: "Ok, ok. I stole the egg."

Ottidge let out an angry caw. Just in case he really was too thick to pick up on the half dozen obvious signs of anger she had displayed regarding the situation already.

"Where did you find her?" she demanded, but of course the words came out in Pidgeotto-speak.

"I don't know what you want from me," the boy protested.

Had she mentioned how irritating humans were? Turning her into a freaking mime...

She pointed her wing down at the car with an emphatic motion. Then she launched herself into the air and wheeled around, travelling backwards down the path she was sure the car must have taken before circling around to land on the dashboard again.

The boy looked down at his shoes. "You want me to take her back."

Finally! She nodded, bobbing her head up and down like an idiot far too many times.

"I guess... she's just a baby, huh? I have a Beedrill now. And I'm gonna get a Charmander." He looked at the baby Spearow again.

She jumped up and rapped him sharply on the head with the flat of her beak. Then she started squawking, fully aware that he wouldn't understand a word of it: "That is a baby that you stole, you selfish, power-hungry, cruel excuse for a being!"

The boy cried out in pain again and covered his ears against the squawking. "Stop it! Wait, just listen to me."

Ottidge switched back to glaring.

"I'll take him—"

She pecked his hand.

"AH! What was...? Her?"

Glare.

"Ok, ok, her." He massaged his now bleeding hand. "I'll take her back to where she came from if you'll just do one thing for me."

"Why should I do anything for you?" she thought.

"You're a mother, right?"

The words stabbed deeply into her heart. Was. She was a mother.

"You understand what it's like to look out for your children. Well, I made a promise to another mother. I promised her that I would protect her son, and I can't do that while I'm far away from him returning a baby Spearow. Why don't we make all the mothers happy? I'll return this Spearow if you watch over Ash."

Ash? She tilted her head to the side.

"He's a human boy," the teenager explained. "Three years younger than me, long dark hair, stupid hat, travels with a Pikachu."

Ottidge narrowed her eyes. She was meant to "watch over" a human being? She knew what that was code for. Would she really give up so much just to save one baby?

***

Misty woke up screaming. "Ah! It's a bug! Get it away from my face!"

The Caterpie awoke with a jerk. It uncurled itself and sent its long slimy body flailing.

There was a loud thump from the other side of the stump she'd lain down next to. She turned and saw Ash struggling to get out of his sleeping bag. "Misty, stop screaming; it's only Caterpie."

"I thought I told you to keep that thing away from me," she moaned, squirming inside her own sleeping bag.

The Caterpie was squishing its way across the ground as quickly as it could propel itself.

"Look, you scared him," Ash accused as it hid itself behind a tree.

"It scared me first." She unzipped her sleeping bag and climbed out with a shudder.

"Caterpie wasn't doing anything wrong."

"It's a disgusting bug, Ash. I don't want it anywhere near me."

"You're being mean to Caterpie just because of how he looks? That can really hurt someone. No one can help the way they look, and it feels really awful for people to treat you badly just because you don't fit what their idea of what beauty is. I guess you wouldn't understand that."

"You think I don't understand what it's like to be self-conscious about the way I look?" Misty asked. "I have three older sisters who are beauty queens. They're constantly picking away at my appearance. I can't be in their act because I look too boyish."

"You look like a girl to me," Ash said slowly.

Misty gave a snarl of frustration. "You don't understand at all."

Ash finished tying his shoelaces and walked into the trees where Caterpie had gone. He held up a Poké Ball and said, "Caterpie, return."

The bug disappeared, and Misty gave a sigh of relief. "You ought to get rid of that thing."

"The woods are full of bugs, Misty. If you want to be a scared little girl about it, I can't stop you, but I'm keeping Caterpie."

They packed up camp in stony silence. Amazingly enough, Pikachu seemed to have slept through the entire argument. Ash attempted to tie him to his backpack as Misty had done the day before, but his fingers were fumbling so much that she was forced to do it for him yet again.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

She pursed her lips and said nothing. She didn't know why Ash was being so infuriatingly stubborn. Everyone knew she was afraid of bugs. Everyone understood that. Bugs were slimy and disgusting. They had too many legs and weird eyes, and they were just plain creepy.

But Ash was acting like he didn't understand any of that. He was acting as though she was the unreasonable one. And, deep down, what annoyed her the most was that he actually was making her wonder whether all this time she had been doing nothing more than act out the stereotype of the helpless little girl that her older sisters saw her as.

As they continued walking in silence, she tried to justify herself. Setting aside the fact that its body had an appearance that was much different from a human's, she tried to find an objective reason why a little creature that crawled on the ground and shot string from its mouth could be a threat to a fourteen-year old girl who owned no less than two Pokémon that could slice it in half with a single spin of their star-shaped bodies.

She was unable to come up with a single valid argument before a Pidgeotto flew out of the tree branches above. It dove for Ash's hat, forcing him to duck.

"Not another bird!" he cried. "Caterpie, go!"

The little green caterpillar emerged from the Poké Ball in a state of confusion that was swiftly exchanged for abject terror as its eyes snapped onto the shadowy outline of a feathered predator.

"Eee!" Caterpie squealed. Its entire body was trembling. It flattened its red antennae against its head and convulsed as though longing to curl into a ball and hide. It turned its head to its trainer, and Misty guessed that it was holding back for him, trying desperately to be brave.

The Pidgeotto screeched, extending its claws as it flew down to meet the Pokémon that was more victim than opponent.

"Ash!" Misty cried, trying in just one word to slam through his thick skull the fact that bugs are weak to birds. That Caterpie was young and weak and squishy and Pidgeotto was a Pokémon in its second evolutionary form possessing sharpened claws and a beak that literally _ate_ smaller bugs.

Caterpie twisted its head upwards and squirted out three desperate strands of sticky webbing. They hit their targets exactly, tangling into both the Pidgeotto's wings, but the bird gave them even less attention than it would have the impact of an errant party streamer. It was not pushed back or knocked off course. Its talons were no less sharp, and, in less than a second, it would be proven that they were no less able to tear through delicate flesh and guts.

Misty whacked the bird with the back of her arm.

"Pi?" Pikachu said as he was jerked awake by the cracking sound of Pidgeotto colliding with a nearby tree trunk.

Misty couldn't see the electric Pokémon, but she certainly could see the electricity arcing out from him. The attack connected squarely with the source of the bird cry the Pidgeotto had just uttered. Perhaps due to the fact that its origin point was just inches from the back of Ash's head, the black-haired trainer did not escape from the shock either.

Ash gave a cry of his own, spasmed, and dropped to his hands and knees. He took deep breaths, his fingers curling into the dirt as if unable to control themselves. Yet he managed to reach into his pocket for a Poké Ball. In no less than three tries, he was able to hit the large white button that expanded it to its full size. He threw it at the Pidgeotto.

Misty had seen enough. She turned back to Caterpie, who was cowering underneath her. She had stepped directly over its body so that one of her feet stood on either side. She let out a shriek and a shudder of her own that made the bug Pokémon scoot away into the nearby undergrowth. She backed away from the spot, moaning.

Meanwhile, the Poké Ball let out a click. Ash picked it up. "Well, that was more painful than I expected, but we just caught a Pidgeotto!"

"I can't believe that I just saved a Caterpie," Misty said, holding her hands up to her head.

"He was doing fine," Ash argued.

Misty lowered her hands and turned them into fists. "He was not 'doing fine'. Ash, you nearly killed your Pokémon!"


	16. Episode 4:1 - Challenge of the Samurai

Misty's statement wasn't actually true, as Pikachu could have easily told her if he could only speak. The Pidgeotto would not have killed Cat. Unless he or she happened to be a psychotic murderer, the bird Pokémon would have obeyed the laws of basic Pokémon decency and blunted the force of its attack. Of course, it was for the same reason that Pikachu was unable to tell Misty this that it was entirely reasonable for her to have believed it. Ash should have believed so as well. If he wasn't a total moron.

"What?" Ash asked stupidly.

"You can't send out your Pokémon against opponents that are ten times stronger than them," Misty raged. She went on and on, explaining everything from type advantages (bird > bug) to levels of training (Caterpie was totally untrained, even by natural experience in the wild) to common sense (Caterpie was shaking in terror, you stupid idiot).

Pikachu, tied to a backpack, could not move, but he attempted to call out to Cat in a voice soft enough that the arguing humans could easily ignore it: "Alright?"

"I'm scared" was the reply.

"Wait, Misty," Ash said. "I can hear him."

Pikachu felt everything shifting as Ash lowered his body to the ground and called out: "Caterpie, it's alright now."

Pikachu was annoyed by his inability to see what was going on, facing completely the wrong direction as he was, but he was surprised to hear Cat utter a few nonsense syllables from close by without Misty saying a single word. He twisted around and bit through the bandages holding him in place. The resulting fall made him hurt all over, but he resisted the urge to make a sound.

He turned around to see Misty standing with her hands over her eyes and Ash extending a hand towards Cat's head. He slowly made contact, then stroked it gently. "I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't know that Pidgeotto was so dangerous to you."

"Cat," the Caterpie replied sadly.

"You did great, though. That string shot attack was right on. You're a great Pokémon." His voice broke a little at the end.

Pikachu's eyes widened, and he circled around just enough to see that Ash was struggling not to cry. "I'm such a bad trainer. Misty's right; I don't even know what I'm doing."

Cat locked eyes with Pikachu. Pikachu pointed at the trainer, trying to silently remind his new little friend that he had also given him a warning about trusting Ash.

Cat paused for a long moment. Then he nudged his head against Ash's still partially outstretched hand.

Ash blinked in surprise and straightened his fingers.

Cat pushed himself up so that the front part of his body was extended above the ground. Then he latched his tiny thoracic legs onto Ash's arm and started climbing. He shimmied right up to Ash's shoulder as if the task were no more difficult than climbing a tree branch.

"Friends?" Cat asked.

Ash didn't understand, but his face still broke out into a wide smile.

***

It was just after they had stopped for a mid-morning snack when Cat realized that he was feeling strange. His stomach felt almost uncomfortably full, and his mouth began dribbling out string without him consciously controlling it. He reared up on the abdominal prolegs at the back of his body and swayed.

"Caterpie?" Ash asked, abandoning his snack to rush forward.

Pikachu, who had finally been starting to regain movement, jumped in front of him to force him to stop.

Cat tilted his head back and felt the strings begin to rain down over his body. It wasn't long before he was coated from head to tail. He was beginning the evolution into Metapod.

***

The Beedrill had given up their search for the Charmander who torched their hive. The forest was too large, and there were too many humans in it. They hadn't got a close enough look at the human who had owned the Charmander in question, and, by now, no doubt, he had sealed the Charmander away inside a Poké Ball. They would not forget, but their duty to rebuild the hive took precedence.

"Luckily," thought a Beedrill named Drillby, "Our work here is almost done."

He buzzed backwards to take a deep breath and survey the nearly-finished product.

"Hey, Beedrill," a voice called out from the branches above.

Drillby turned to see a pair of Spearow resting on a branch overhead. "Have you seen a kid come through here with a stolen Spearow egg?"

"Stolen egg?" Drillby exclaimed. "No."

One of the Spearow chirped sadly. "I told you this mission is useless. No one has seen the thief for days."

"Maybe he didn't have the egg in plain sight," the other one persisted. "Did you see a dark haired boy with a Pikachu?"

"I haven't seen a Pikachu," Drillby said slowly. "But we've been searching for a boy who set our hive ablaze with his Charmander." He thrust one of his pointed drills at the uncompleted portion of the new hive.

"Young kid?" the Spearow asked excitedly. "Thirteen years old?"

"Yes."

"It's got to be the same one!"

Drillby agreed. Both crimes must have been committed by the same human.

"We've got to fly back and tell the rest of our flock that we've found him," one of the Spearow said.

"Can you hold him here until we get back?" asked the other.

"My drills are at your service. I will request an audience with our queen."

As the Spearows took flight, Drillby buzzed back to the hive with confidence. He would help make sure their work was done as quickly as possible. The queen would allow him to speak with her then, and he was sure that she would agree with the assessment he had made. They were going to find the dark haired criminal with the Pikachu and make him pay.


	17. Episode 4:2 - Wrath of the Beedrill

Pikachu was finally starting to feel better. He wasn't in good enough shape to get off of Ash's backpack, but he was at least well enough to sit on top of it under his own power.

As soon as he was able to walk, he was determined to attempt an escape again. Ash had two other Pokémon to distract him now, and he wasn't even paying attention to Pikachu in his injured state. It would be far too easy for him to slip away while no one was looking and no one was expecting him to even be able to move.

He just hoped that Cat came out of his cocoon before that happened. He hadn't forgotten his promise to help him evolve. He still felt sorry for the kid. Maybe the two of them could escape together.

Right now, though, the Metapod was stored inside a Poké Ball in Ash's belt. Pikachu knew that it was impossible for a Metapod to move under its own power and that Cat didn't seem to mind, but it still annoyed him.

He went on being annoyed with it until another trainer rushed out of the woods. He ran straight up to Ash, stuck a finger in his face, and demanded, "Are you a trainer from the town of Pallet?"

Ash froze in his tracks. "Um, no, I'm from a place called Pallet Town."

Pikachu heard Misty's hand colliding with her forehead. "Ash, that's exactly what he means."

"Aha!" the boy exclaimed. "I've located you at last! The final trainer from the Town of Pallet!"

"I, uh..." Ash trailed off, clearing not knowing what to make of him.

To be fair, Pikachu didn't either. He appeared to be about Ash's age, dressed in green shorts and a white tank top. Those were fairly normal clothes for a human, but they were almost completely hidden under what appeared to be lightweight armor. There was a thin, flat sheet of colored metal hanging down from bits of rope at his shoulders, and it attached to several smaller strips of metal that stuck out like a skirt. Even more odd was the shiny black and golden helmet that he wore, complete with two large prongs that stuck up like a Heracross's horn.

"Who are you?" Ash finally asked.

"I am Samurai," the boy proclaimed proudly.

"You mean that you're a samurai?"

The boy frowned. "I am Samurai."

"Ash, just stop arguing with him," Misty said. She pulled Ash backwards a few steps and whispered in his ear while Pikachu leaned down to hear. "This boy is clearly an orphan. He might have been wandering out here since the plague. He probably never got an education, and there's no telling what kind of trauma he's experienced. Just ask him what he wants."

"What do you want?" Ash asked obediently.

"I challenge you to a battle of the Pokémon!" he cried, unexpectedly pulling a long curved sword from a sheath at his waist.

Ash jumped back at he took a swing. "Ah! Ok, just don't slice me with that thing!"

"I will defeat you in the honorable combat of a battle of the Pokémon!" He put on a wide smile as he sheathed his sword and pulled out a Poké Ball. "Pinsir, go!"

Misty shrieked and ran behind a tree as an enormous brown beetle Pokémon popped out. Standing on two legs, it was almost as tall as Ash. It had a mass of thin teeth aligned vertically and two enormous spiked horns.

Ash called out Pidgeotto, which Pikachu noted was actually a smart move for once.

"Gust," Ash called.

"Harden!"

The Pinsir focused on increasing its defenses while Pidgeotto's wings whipped up a miniature tornado around it.

Pidgeotto used the move for a second time while the Pinsir repeated its previous move as well. Pikachu was actually impressed with Ash's strategy and the amount of damage that the flying type Pokémon was causing to the bug type. That is, he was impressed until Ash spoke his next order.

"Quick Attack!"

"Pi!" Pikachu protested aloud, but it was too late.

"Vital Throw!" Samurai countered.

Pidgeotto swooped in for a physical attack that had zero type advantage and whose power was weakened by both previous Harden attacks. Meanwhile, Pinsir was sitting back, waiting for the bird to come down from the air.

Pidgeotto plunged her beak into the Pinsir's torso, but the Pinsir's claws plunged into her. It raised its thin brown arms above its head and threw her straight into the ground.

"Tackle!" Ash ordered.

Pikachu was outraged, but Pidgeotto managed to straighten herself up, ruffle her feathers, and take off right into the spot on Pinsir's torso where the cracks were spreading from her previous attack.

Pinsir collapsed.

"Good job, Pidgeotto," Ash cheered, but the bird Pokémon had fluttered straight back to the ground. She shook her head to indicate that she couldn't battle anymore either, and both trainers returned their Pokémon.

"Alright then," Ash said, "I suppose it's down to you..."

"Metapod!" Samurai called out in perfect unison with Ash.

Pikachu wished that his paws could make a slapping sound against his forehead like Misty's hand could against hers.

Both Metapod, predictably, used the only move that they knew how to use: Harden.

Cat used Harden.

Then Samurai's Metapod used Harden.

Then Cat used Harden again.

It was truly gripping action.

Even so, neither trainer was willing to give up. The sheer power of idiocy was unbelievable.

***

Drillby had been given an honored position at the head of the third swarm sent out by the Beedrill queen upon completion of their new hive. He buzzed with pride as his translucent wings beat against the air, not growing tired even after half an hour of intense flight.

He yelled encouragement to the others: "Remember that this is for the hive! For the protection of the innocent! For the queen!"

The responding cheer was lackluster until he abruptly added: "And there he is!"

Indeed, he had spotted a human matching the exact description that had been given to him by the Spearow. A human boy with dark hair and a Pikachu, locked in what appeared to be... a heated staring match?

Drillby shrugged it off and yelled, "Attack!"

The cheers, which had already gained enthusiasm, now became cries of ecstasy as the swarm swooped down upon the humans. Whipped into a frenzy by their thirst to prove themselves to the queen, they whirled and stabbed with the points of their drills.

There was a female shriek as an unseen figure fled in terror. The other human engaged in the staring contest dropped to the ground, crossing his arms beneath his body as drills clanged off the rough metal of his helmet. Their target was waving his hands over his head as though this pointless gesture would magically ward them away. Only the Pikachu stood unafraid. Well, unless you could count Metapod, but they weren't really "standing", and they didn't really have a choice.

As Drillby had noted, the Pikachu stood unafraid, perched atop the bright green backpack that the human wore. Curiously enough, though, when he opened his mouth to speak, it was not in defense of his trainer. Instead, he cried out with indignance: "I'm already hurt enough!"

Even more to Drillby's surprise, the Thundershock attack the Pikachu unleashed expanded to so wide an area that the human himself was not just hit but landed in almost the exact center of the outburst. The human fell to his knees, and dozens of Beedrill dropped like rocks.

The human in the strange suit of armor pulled out a pokéball and recalled his Metapod. Drillby looked at the second one, which sat as blankly as ever inside its green cocoon. As sparks crackled through the air once more, he altered his flight path and yelled: "To me!"

Instantly, five more buzzes zoomed up to his side.

Drillby commanded: "Lift!" They flew on either side of the Metapod and scooped their drills beneath it. As Drillby shouted about the need for caution, they raised the Pokémon from the ground.

"Metapod!" the human cried. He was still twitching and jerking from the electric shock, unable to grab his pokéball.

"Pi!" The Pikachu aimed another jolt their way, but it was weaker now. One of the five fell away, but the rest remained. By flying slowly and shouting directions to each other, the small group of uninjured Beedrill lifted the Metapod above the treetops and out of reach.

"Where do we go?" one of the Beedrill asked him.

"To the hive. There we meet up with the others. The human will come straight to us."


	18. Episode 4:3 - Baby Bird

Gary had to admit that he was taking his sweet time keeping the promise to Pidgeotto. He could have been back at the place where he had found the Spearow egg hours ago if he had driven straight there. He'd told himself that it was completely fair to stop and catch another Pokémon to replace the one he would be giving up. And his promise to himself of just one Butterfree turned into a Butterfree and a Metapod and a Caterpie, along with the Kakuna and a Weedle to round out the entire set.

He sent the Caterpie and the Weedle back to his grandfather, smirking as he imagined the old man's surprise. He might not have his first badge yet, but he was pretty sure he was leading the way in the number of Pokémon captured.

He went back to the car often in order to check on the baby Spearow. He had just finished feeding her when he realized there was no use in stalling any longer. If he was going to keep his promise to that Pidgeotto, he'd better take the Spearow back now.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked the baby bird.

She looked up at him and cheeped. He didn't think that she had understood.

He petted her fuzzy head with his finger, and she closed her eyes happily. Gary couldn't help but smile, but it faded as he looked down at the clock on the dashboard. Time was wasting. He had to challenge that first gym before Ash got there or he would never live it down.

He carefully moved the makeshift nest to the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition, and drove out of the southern boundary of Viridian Forest.

***

Cat was not aware of very much inside his brand new cocoon. He couldn't see even light and dark now. He couldn't really hear. He couldn't feel anything except the inside of the tough shell he was encased in. He had felt himself sloshing against it as he was lifted into the air. The movements were wild, erratic, as though he might be dropped at any moment. Over time, he was able to determine the pressure points, along with their little bits of extra heat, which indicated that he was being held in many places all at once by limbs that were long and exceptionally thin. Not human hands.

What happened to Ash? Where was he? Why was he letting someone carry Cat away like this?

Cat was afraid of being dropped. He was very afraid of being dropped. He knew that if his shell cracked open now, it would be the end for him. 

Metapod were meant to stay in a safe place until their transformation was complete. As far as he could tell, he was speeding through the air amid a swarm of Beedrill. 

Cat was alone in his shell. More alone than he had ever been before. And then the Beedrill put him down, and he was even more alone. The entire world was darkness and silence and fear.

***

Ottidge emerged from her Poké Ball feeling sore all over her body. She was happy to see that Ash's opponent was gone. Less happy when she found that trainer spasming uncontrollably on the forest floor.

"What happened?" she demanded of Pikachu as she fluttered to Ash's side.

"Forget him," Pikachu replied. "Those Beedrill kidnapped Cat!"

"Who's Cat?"

"The Metapod! He's just a kid. I promised to help him."

"And I promised to protect this trainer. Who did this? Where are they?" Ottidge turned her head as far as it would go in both directions.

Pikachu, still heavily bandaged, was struggling to stand up, all four legs shaking under him. He caught her gaze and immediately looked away.

"You! You did this to your own trainer!" Ottidge shrieked.

"He deserved it. Now can we please—?"

Pikachu was knocked to the ground before he could finish the sentence. Ottidge's wing joint ached from the force of the impact, but a tiny bit of warmth rose up in her heart.

"Pidgeotto!" Ash finally pulled himself into a sitting position. "Stop that!"

"Are you crazy?" Pikachu shielded his head with his paws as Ottidge rounded in for another hit.

She was going to nip one of his ears and be done with it, but that was before the Pikachu zapped her with a lightning bolt. She swirled crazily in the air, but the attack was weak. She didn't make a graceful landing, but she did land.

"Want to try me now?" she threatened, tearing up the dirt between her talons to demonstrate her improved electrical resistance.

"Stop it right now!" Ash jumped in between them, spreading his arms as if to push apart a pair of warring humans. "If we're going to save Metapod, we have to work together. Pidgeotto, I want you to fly up there and see if you can spot him."

Ottidge looked doubtfully at the arm spread far above her head, but she complied. Once she got above the tree tops, it wasn't difficult to spot the enormous swarm of Beedrill converging around the tree where they kept their Kakuna.

"Did you see anything?" Ash asked eagerly as she landed on a low-hanging tree branch.

She shot a look at Pikachu. "You didn't tell me there were dozens of them."

"We have to try," Pikachu said.

She shook her head. "It's too dangerous."

Ash, who had only seen the head shake, groaned. "You didn't see anything at all?"

"We can't just leave him there," Pikachu protested. "He's alone and scared."

"I know a baby Spearow who's alone and scared as well," Ottidge said softly.

"Can you try again?" Ash asked. "Maybe go a little higher."

Ottidge rolled her eyes.

"Look," Pikachu said. "We're going to do this with you or without you. I don't know what you're talking about, but I will find a way to help that baby Spearow if you help us find Cat. Please."

Ottidge looked at Pikachu and then at Ash. "It's nice of you to offer, but I think I'm going to stick to my own plan."

She flew up again. This time, though, she had no intention of returning.

***

"I don't think Pidgeotto's coming back, Pikachu," Ash said half an hour later.

Pikachu shook his head. "No, you think?"

"Maybe he got captured, too!"

Pikachu smacked himself in the forehead.

"Did you see which way he went?"

Pikachu pointed as he issued a terse correction. "She."

"That way? Excellent!" Ash grabbed him underneath both arms and swung him up so quickly that his ribs ached almost as badly as when the injuries were fresh.

"Pi!" He squirmed, trying to free himself, but Ash was running through the forest now.

From behind a nearby tree, Pikachu heard an almost imperceptible buzz: "Finally." A Beedrill flew out, saying, "Oh no. A human. Whatever will I do?" He waved his drills in the air lazily.

Ash stopped in his tracks. "Oh, boy, a Beedrill! Now all we have to do is follow it."

"Oh no," the Beedrill repeated as it began flying away with all the speed of a Slakoth. "Help, the human is following me. I hope it doesn't find our hive."

"Ash, it's a trap," Pikachu cried out, squirming even harder.

"I know, Pikachu, isn't it exciting?" Ash cheered and ran forward. He kept running and running right up until the moment when he tripped over a suspiciously well-placed strand of String Shots and tumbled head first into a clearing.

At the center stood a large, healthy tree with a perfectly straight trunk that stretched high into the air before branching out. That smooth trunk was covered in dozens of Kakuna, and even more dangled from the branches above, held aloft by wire-thick string. The only Pokémon not attached to the tree in some way was the Metapod resting in between its protruding roots.

"Cat!" Pikachu called out, but it was already too late.

It was all too obvious that Kakuna and Beedrill weren't the only ones at work here, and now they were face to face with an entire army of Weedle.

"String Shot!" yelled out the Beedrill they had been following.

Within seconds, they found themselves wrapped from neck to toe.

"Take them to the hive," the Beedrill commanded, thrusting his drill to the east.

The Weedle cheered as they dug their little horns into the ground and wormed their way underneath the human and the Pokémon.

"Metapod!"

"Shut up, hive-wrecker." One of the Weedle shot a wad of string so that it covered Ash's mouth.

"None of this would have happened if that Pidgeotto hadn't abandoned us," Pikachu thought bitterly as the squirming Weedle underneath his body began to carry him away. "What was she so afraid of? She's a bird Pokémon. She eats worms like these for breakfast."

"Why are you doing this?" Pikachu asked the Weedle.

"This human destroyed our hive and stole a Spearow egg from the forest outside of Pallet Town. He must stand trial for his crimes."

"Well what did I do?"

"As far as I know, nothing."

"Then why can't you at least let me go? I promise I won't help the human. I just want to get my Metapod friend and get out of here."

"You are a witness," the Weedle replied. "You must testify."

"But I don't know anything about a broken Beedrill hive or a stolen..." Pikachu stopped, suddenly remembering what the Pidgeotto had said before she flew away. "Wait, are you sure it's still an egg?"

"What?"

"What if the egg hatched? What if I can tell you where to find the baby Spearow?"

The Weedle he had been talking to locked eyes with the Beedrill flying overhead, who answered for him: "Tell it to the leader of the Spearow."

Pikachu's eyes widened. "She's coming here?"

The Beedrill chuckled. The electric type is afraid of a little bird?"

Pikachu's mind flashed with memories of running through a thunderstorm while beaks ripped off huge chunks of his flesh, the high-pitched cry of a single voice driving them on. "I'm afraid of that bird."


	19. Episode 4:4 - The Trial

Aspeara was having an awful time of it. As if mourning for her dead mother and lost sister were not enough, half the flock suspected her of incompetence. She was young, inexperienced, and unevolved, and the rest of the Spearow seemed to be keeping their eyes peeled for any excuse to overthrow her rule.

She'd been meeting with advisors and representatives from neighboring bird populations for days, just trying to scratch the surface of what was needed to restore a well-functioning government. Every meeting was a first impression, every single one would shape her future ability to lead, and she couldn't help but think that they were all going terribly.

She had only just settled down in her nest for a well-deserved snippet of rest when two lookouts came barging onto her branch.

"Lady Aspeara, we have urgent news," one said, lifting one wing and tilting his head in the traditional bow.

The second Spearow copied the gesture.

Aspeara ruffled her feathers in a gesture of annoyance, refusing to stand up. "You come onto my branch while I'm sleeping? This better be important, or I swear I will have your wings clipped for this."

"Lady Aspeara," the lookout said nervously, "the one who stole your sister's egg has been captured."

Now she stood up. "Take me to him at once."

Both lookouts bowed, their eyes flooding with relief. "At once, your ladyship. We will fly to Viridian Forest, where the criminal is being held by the queen of the Beedrill. She has scheduled the trial to take place at dawn."

Aspeara's eyes narrowed. Just what she needed. Another diplomatic introduction.

She shook out her feathers and took off after the two lookouts, but they had only just reached the road in the middle of their territory when she realized she had made a mistake again.

"You," she called out to the second lookout, "return to the flock and inform them of the events that have taken place."

She couldn't just leave without telling anyone. There were procedures that needed to be followed. Procedures that she was constantly struggling to remember. She landed on a branch and closed her eyes in frustration. One lookout landed beside her, watching as his companion flew back in the direction from which they had just come.

All three birds missed the sight of the antique car speeding down the road. By the time they took off again, it was long out of sight.

***

"The trial of the dreaded arsonist and kidnapper has begun," a Beedrill drone announced. "These proceedings will be overseen by Lady Aspeara and her royal majesty queen of the Beedrill."

Aspeara fluttered up to the judgment branch. "I am Lady Aspeara, leader of the Great Southwestern Flock. I identify the accused as the human boy who stole my sister's egg from the nest of my dead mother."

The Beedrill queen, who still hadn't deigned to gift Aspeara with her given name, hovered just above the judgment branch, her compound eyes fixed upon the accused. "And I identify the accused as the one who caused his Charmander to set our hive on fire."

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd of Beedrill assembled. There hadn't been nearly this much chatter following her accusation, Aspeara noted with annoyance. The Beedrill queen still did not respect her, and neither did her subjects. They were more concerned about a fancy bit of construction work that they had already been able to replace than they were about an innocent little baby who might be going through any number of horrors at the hands of such an evil human.

That human was squirming even now, completely oblivious to the proceedings as he uselessly attempted to free himself from the String Shot cocoon he had been wrapped in. So disrespectful.

Aspeara's gaze turned to the Pikachu who was bound at the trainer's side. "Well?"

The Pikachu's ears lowered, and he seemed to struggle to lift his eyes up to hers as he said, "I am innocent of both these crimes, and so is the Metapod you kidnapped. Please release us."

The Beedrill queen laughed. "Release you? This trial has barely started."

"I'm just stating our innocence," the Pikachu replied. "I can prove it if you'd like."

"Your traveling companion set fire to our hive!"

"Cat and I can't possibly have had anything to do with that. Neither one of us can use fire. We weren't even present at the scene of the crime. Just ask the witness who identified a Charmander as the culprit."

"The witness identified a human who matches the description of your trainer."

"Did he see a Caterpie, a Metapod, or a Pikachu?"

"Wait," Aspeara said. "Are you really arguing that you are innocent while your trainer is not? Are you asking us to release you from our bonds and from this human's evil grasp?"

The Pikachu hesitated. A hush fell over the assembled Pokémon. No sound could be heard except the buzzing of the Beedrill queen's wings as she hovered in expectation.

Finally, he closed his eyes and said, "this human is innocent as well."

The crowd erupted into outrage. Every Beedrill in attendance cried foul and swarmed in agitation. It was a full minute before it became quiet enough for them to hear the Pikachu's protest: his trainer did not own a Charmander.

"Let him fight," the Pikachu argued. "Let him think he's fighting for his freedom, and he'll show you that he has no Pokémon other than myself and Cat."

"Weedle," the Beedrill queen called out, "how many Poké Balls did this human have before you bound him up?"

"Two, your majesty."

"Then return yourself to yours, and we will allow the Metapod to do the same. If we find your statement to be true, we will release your trainer."

The Pikachu winced.

"Is that a problem?" Aspeara taunted.

"I... I can't testify about your other accusation from inside a Poké Ball," he replied, the words pouring out of his mouth a bit too quickly.

Aspeara leaned forward on the judgement branch. "And how will you prove that you didn't kidnap my baby sister?"

"That's where I come in," a voice called out. It was spoken with a Pidgeotto's caw and was quickly followed by the fluttering of wings as the bird Pokémon appeared, flanked by two members of Aspeara's own flock.

"Honorable Lady Aspeara," the Pidgeotto swept out her right wing and bowed low, "I would like to request the honor of a private audience."

***

"I knew that Pidgeotto would come to save us," Ash babbled excitedly. "I knew it, I knew it! What's he doing? Is he fighting them?"

All of the human's squirming had finally gotten him somewhere: face down on the ground where he couldn't see a thing. Pikachu thought that was very metaphorically resonant.

It was true that the Beedrill had been in a frenzy of activity ever since the private audience had begun, but Ash would have been disappointed to learn that they were only gossiping and taking bets on the trial's final outcome.

This had been going on for quite a while when a voice behind them whispered, "Starmie, use Rapid Spin to cut them free."

Pikachu didn't even have to turn around to know that it was Misty. She had overcome her fear of bugs to rescue them.

"Go, Pinsir!" another voice cried out. The kid who thought he was a samurai. Of course he'd been on board for a rescue mission. He drew out a sword and began swinging it wildly through the air as he charged straight into the Beedrill swarm.

Pikachu was cut free, but a second later he was scooped up into Ash's arms. "We have to find Metapod," the boy said.

For once in his life, Pikachu agreed. Fortunately, the task did not prove difficult. Before Ash had taken five steps towards the raging swarm of Beedrill, Ottidge had soared up high above them, clutching a Metapod tightly in her talons.

"We're free to go!" she cried out over the confusion. "Let's leave them with the samurai kid!"

"Pidgeotto! Metapod! You came back!" Ash cried happily.

"Ash, we have to go," Misty said urgently, pulling on his hand.

Ash returned Cat to his Poké Ball, and Ottidge dove down to the level of Ash's head, obviously intent on leading the way out of the forest.

"What did you tell her?" Pikachu asked.

"The identity of the real kidnapper," Ottidge replied. "He's a liar and a betrayer, and I hope they take that Spearow back and sting him with a thousand needles."


	20. Episode 5:1 - Showdown in Pewter City

"It took you long enough to get here, Meowth," Jessie growled. "Now come in here and get these handcuffs off me. They're damaging my beautiful wrists."

She and James had both leapt to their feet as soon as the door to the cellblock opened. Both Team Rocket agents looked tired and grimy. Their clothes were wrinkled from sleeping on the floor of the cell, and Jessie's hair, which was usually held aloft at a ridiculous angle thanks to an even more ridiculous amount of hair gel, had gone limp.

Meowth stopped in front of the bars and jingled the keys. "Cassidy and Butch suggested that I leave ya in here till ya learned your lesson. So?"

"You brought Cassidy?" Jessie shrieked.

Before she could launch into a tirade about her most hated rival, James fell to his knees. "Please let us out of here, Meowth; we're sorry! We won't ever disobey your orders ever again." Without any other people around, his voice had reverted back to its natural tone, which was high and whiny.

"Now that's more like it. Jessie?"

She sneered. "Alright, fine, I'll listen to you. Now can you please get me out of here before Cassidy sees me in this terrible condition?"

He tossed the keys through the bars and let them struggle through the task of unlocking their own handcuffs while he continued speaking. "Ya know ya ought to consider yourselves very lucky for getting out of here at all. The boss is only doing it because he's got a special mission for us."

"Special mission?" James wondered.

Jessie was sticking her arm through the bars in order to fit the key into the door of the cell. In spite of her promise, she was pretending not to listen.

"He wants us to capture a very special Pikachu."

"A Pikachu?" Jessie repeated. "What can the boss possibly want with a weak little thing like that?"

"He didn't say, but I'm guessing research and experimentation. Whatever it is, he wants us to capture it alive and well, but we won't be able to bring it back inside a Poké Ball."

"Well that's odd."

"Never mind that, James, the important thing to ask is how we're going to find this stupid rodent. Can't we just go out into the forest and catch the first one that we find?"

"The boss was very specific. It has to be that Pikachu. I saw it myself at the Pokémon Center. Alls we have to do is go back there and ask around until we find out who it left with."

"I hate detective work," James groaned. "Can't we have a snack first?"

"How can you think about your stomach when we're not even out of this jail yet?" Jessie asked.

"Thanks to you two numbskulls we're completely out of cash," Meowth said. "You can eat whatever you can steal on the way there. Now take your Pokémon back and get moving. The sooner we complete this mission the sooner we'll be back on the boss's good side."

***

Kyle looked down at his Charmander. "Alright, Blaze, are you ready to give this a shot?"

He nodded, then fixed his gaze on the heavy iron doors before them with a look of determination.

"Great! But just remember that there's no shame in giving up, ok? I don't expect to defeat our first gym leader on our first try."

"Tulip and I will be rooting for you," Jenny said with a smile as the Bulbasaur in her arms gave a cheerful cry.

Kyle took a deep breath. The stone edifice of the Pewter City gym was certainly imposing, but he did his best to set his nerves aside as he raised his hands and pushed the doors inward.

The interior was pitch black, causing Jenny to remark that it was like a man-made cave. The thick stone walls muffled all the sound except for what was filtering through the open doors behind them.

Kyle took a step forward. "Hello?"

A series of overhead lights flicked on. "Who goes there?"

At the same time, Jenny gasped out: "Gary?"

Kyle, who had been entirely preoccupied by the sight of a dark-skinned man in his early twenties who appeared to have been meditating in the darkness, spun around to see that, yes, Gary Oak had been caught sneaking in behind them. He was frozen with one foot halfway extended, as if he didn't know whether to complete his footstep.

"I'm afraid you have me confused for someone else," the dark-skinned man said in a low voice. He hadn't budged from his cross-legged position, and Kyle noticed that he still hadn't opened his eyes.

As Kyle rushed to explain the situation to the man who was obviously the gym leader, Jenny set Tulip on the ground and turned to confront Gary. "Were you trying to spy on us? Or... you aren't still trying to get your hands on Blaze!"

Gary finally settled into a position facing her. "I would never steal another trainer's Pokémon! I just didn't want to embarrass you by letting you know that I had watched you lose."

Jenny's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but Kyle turned from his conversation with the gym leader. "I don't want a fight right now. I mean, I don't want a fight besides the one I'm about to have against Brock. Just let Gary watch. He won't hurt anything."

"Hmph!" Gary snorted. He turned his back and marched up to the observation deck.

"I swear he's up to something," Jenny muttered, but Tulip was already bounding up the stairs, so she just followed with a sigh.

"Are you ready now?" Brock asked tauntingly. He stood up and crossed his arms.

"Yes."

"This will be a two on two battle. We will each begin with one Pokémon."

As the gym leader continued explaining the basic rules of a gym battle, Kyle found himself focusing more on the man before him than the words that were being spoken. He understood that it was important for the gym leader to explain things to trainers taking on their very first gym challenge, but he had studied up on the rulebook months before leaving on his journey. What he hadn't done was research his opponents.

Brock was walking towards the box painted on the floor to represent the area where the gym leader was meant to stand. His speech continued in a voice that was low and calm, and his steps were slow and confident. But his eyes were closed. 

His eyes were closed and yet he took a straight path to the center of a box that was completely indiscernible without eyesight. He'd kept his gym in total darkness until challengers arrived.

Kyle's face grew hot as he put all the pieces together _and _realized that he'd been staring. He hadn't made a single move towards his own position yet, and he winced as his hurried footsteps rang out loudly.

The gym leader frowned. "Let's get this battle started, Onix."

***

"Well this isn't going well," Gary commented from the observation deck. The five hundred pound rock monster had felled Kyle's first Pokémon in just two hits, and it was continuing to let out an almost constant stream of threatening growls as it attempted to slither its snake-like body into optimal position against Blaze the Charmander.

"Be quiet, Gary, I'm trying to watch," Jenny said.

The teenager was sitting right behind him, which was very unfortunate indeed. Her attention did seem to be completely focused on the battle, but he had little doubt that she was not-so-secretly keeping an eye on him as well. He didn't even dare to pull out the message that his father had sent him.

The message hadn't said exactly when his father was expecting a reply, but if he could only double check the wording. He remembered that his father had started by hoping he was finding his time in Pewter City to be pleasant (Gary hadn't told him that he'd made it to Pewter City), had dropped the names of a few Pewter City friends of his (Gary knew that these were actually important business acquaintances that he was expected to network with before he left), and had ended with some kind of carefully worded wish that Gary's gym battle experience would prove to be an asset rather than a hindrance. 

Gary knew what that last part meant as well. His father was expecting him to make this quick, and he was expecting the victory to be accomplished with the Pokémon whose name would open doors when he told the story to the important businessmen. The one he'd told his father that he'd gotten from Professor Oak. He was expected to win this battle with a Charmander.

Gary could lie through his teeth just as easily as brushing off a fleck of dirt, but he could only guarantee that everyone would buy it if he showed them photos. In spite of all his talk, Gary had actually come into the gym hoping to see a victory from Kyle. A few action shots of fire blazing, one of a Charmander standing beside a fallen Onix, and one story in which Gary stepped into Kyle's shoes would be all that it took. If anyone happened to talk to Brock about it, he needed to make sure that they'd been shown enough proof to conclude that the gym leader must have mixed the two kids up. Gary would make sure to use Kyle's name during his own gym battle and absolutely never let anyone in this city see him with a Squirtle. It was the only way.

Gary felt the camera burning a hole into his backpack. He tried to slide along the bleacher he was sitting on to ease his way out of Jenny's sight, but the Bulbasaur jumped up to block his way.

"Bulba?" she asked with a bright smile.

"I can't play right now," he muttered, certain that Jenny was paying attention now.

Meanwhile, Brock's Onix was choking the life out of Kyle's Charmander. The battle was about to be lost. There wasn't a single shot that could be taken even if Gary could pull out his camera.

"I concede the match!" Kyle called out.

"I suppose you're going next?" Gary asked Jenny.

She shook her head. "Nope. Tulip and I definitely aren't ready. But now that I've seen how incredibly strong Brock is, I can't wait for you to _show us how it's done_."

Gary winced as one of his favorite phrases was thrown back into his face.

"I'm ready for the next challenger," Brock announced as he returned his Onix to his pokéball.

"Should be easy work for you, Gary," Kyle called as he looked up to the observation area.

The words made sense. It was a rock type gym. Gary had gotten the water type starter. Anyone would expect them to have developed a reasonably good strategy by now. His father was expecting him to pound out a quick victory and have the badge to show for it. Jenny was two seconds away from rubbing an embarrassing loss into his face. And Kyle was waiting to see him use the Squirtle.

It was the only Pokémon that could win the battle. And yet it was also the only Pokémon that he absolutely couldn't use. 


	21. Episode 5:2 - A Show of Wealth

"It feels good to finally be rid of all those bugs." Misty shuddered as she took the final step out of Viridian Forest.

"Oh, come on, Misty, give it a rest," Ash said with a groan.

Misty didn't understand what Ash's problem was. Hadn't he ever seen a girl creeped out by bugs before?

"It's completely normal to be afraid of bug types, Ash."

"Well I've never met anyone who is. Especially not someone whose Pokémon are as strong as yours are. I'm surprised you're not taking on the Pokémon League challenge yourself."

Misty felt herself blushing and tried to hide it by pretending that she needed to redo her Ponyta-tail. She still hadn't told Ash who she really was. Having her hair in front of her face provided a nice screen for concealing the truth, but it also proved to be a walking hazard.

"Misty, watch out!" Ash caught her hand as she tripped so that she wobbled on the toes of a single foot while pulling on his arm until she regained her balance. 

She probably should have thanked him, but her immediate reaction on looking down was: "Why is there a pile of rocks in the middle of the road?"

"You're breaking all my merchandise," protested a slightly slurred voice. A dark-skinned man rushed forward and cradled the pile protectively. "These are finest specimens of Pewter City rock. Ten thousand Poké Dollars each."

Misty's first thought was that the man was drunk, but he had moved with surprising speed and agility. She gasped as she took a closer look. His skin was mottled and covered with bumps that gave it the appearance that it was boiling. His hands were covered in dried blood and scar tissue. His lips were dry and cracked, and he was breathing heavily.

"Sell rocks, tourists," he muttered, swaying on his feet.

This time Misty was the one to rush forward and catch ahold of him before he keeled over in a dead faint. "We have to get him to a hospital right away!"

Ash threw a Poké Ball up into the air. "Go, Pidgeotto! Fly ahead and tell the Chansey at the Pokémon Center to send a stretcher as fast as they can."

"Pidgeo!" the flying type called back with a nod of the head.

Ash rushed forward and positioned himself so that his shoulder was under the man's arm, helping Misty to support his weight. She was grateful for the help, but she really didn't need it. In spite of the man's height, he was as thin as a rail. Misty thought, in a spurt of panic, that he might weigh even less than her.

Thankfully, the edge of the forest was not far outside the Pewter City limits; they did not have long to wait before a pair of Chansey appeared bearing the requested stretcher.

Ash and Misty helped to lay him down and strap him in securely, then ran along after the Chansey as they took off faster than Misty had thought was possible for Pokemon with barely any legs. Once inside the Center, the Chansey rushed off to a back room, and Nurse Joy stepped out from behind the desk. 

"What happened?" she asked.

Misty explained as briefly as she could.

"Sounds like a case of dehydration," the nurse remarked. "I'd better go back there to help them. Please wait here."

They did, but the next person to approach them was not the nurse but Officer Jenny. "Nurse Joy tells me that the two of you were witnesses to this crime?"

"Crime?" Ash asked in confusion.

Misty gasped. "Are you saying someone did this on purpose to hurt the poor man?"

"I can see that you know very little," the officer commented. "Why don't you start by telling me everything you saw?"

Nurse Joy walked back out just as they were finishing up.

"Did he mention his name at all?" Officer Jenny asked.

"No," Ash replied. "He didn't say much of anything except that he was trying to sell rocks as souvenirs or something."

"Can't you check his fingerprints?" Misty asked. "If he's a Pokemon trainer, they'll be in the system, right?"

Nurse Joy and Officer Jenny exchanged a look.

Misty gasped. "His hands... Are you saying that somebody removed his fingerprints?"

"I'm really not supposed to comment on an ongoing investigation," Officer Jenny said.

"And I can only share his private medical details with a family member," Nurse Joy chimed in.

"But how are you going to find his family members if you don't know who he is?" Ash asked.

"I'll put out a poster with his face on it," Officer Jenny replied. "In the meantime, don't hesitate to call me if you remember anything else that might be useful."

She handed them a card with the non-emergency police number written on it.

"We will," Ash said with a determined nod. "In the meantime, can you take a look at my Pikachu, Nurse Joy? The nurse in Viridian City said he might be well enough to get his bandages off soon."

Pikachu's ears perked up at this. Misty was sure that she could understand. It must be terribly frustrating to have to be carried everywhere.

"Do you hear that, Pikachu?" she said sweetly. "You'll be able to run free again in no time."

***

Gary stepped in the door and immediately regretted the fact that he had neglected to pack a suit and tie when he had left on his Pokémon journey. He was wearing business casual, and he had just walked into a _very_ formal dinner party.

The man who had opened the door for him hadn't commented, but Gary soon realized with a hot flash of embarrassment that he was probably just doing his job as a butler.

As he stood frozen in fear, a woman in a floor-length red evening gown floated past and shot him a quizzical look. She turned to a friend who was dripping with sapphires and whispered something that earned her a light and airy giggle in response.

"I thought I was just stopping by for dinner," Gary said, loudly and to the nearest person, who happened to be the butler.

The man did not even cast a second glance at him. He just continued to stand near the entryway with his hands folded neatly behind him. The doorbell rang, and he walked away to answer it.

Gary wondered if he should run. He had just taken an unsteady step backwards when a familiar-looking man broke through the crowd of staring party-goers. He had the perfect appearance of a native Kantonian, with the addition of gray hair and a few wrinkles that somehow made him look dignified. Gary recognized him immediately as the CEO of the largest mining corporation in the entire region. Watanabe Haruto. The man that he had come here to meet.

Haruto's frown deepened with each step he took. "Minato, please give the boy a donation for whatever sort of Teddiursa Scout troop he's representing and send him on his way."

Gary was just about to say something along the lines of: "Yes, I'm with troop 113. I was here to deliver an order of popcorn, but I see I have the wrong address. I'm terribly sorry, and I assure you it will never happen again, sir."

Instead, Minato the butler said, "His name was on the list, sir."

"What?"

Gary fixed his eyes on the floor he wanted so badly to melt into. "I'm Gary Oak, sir."

"Who?" Haruto's voice was getting louder and more angry.

"I'm Roger Webb's son."

"Oh, yes, I was expecting you," Haruto said, beginning to calm down. "Though not in a getup like that. Your father tells me you're in the midst of some foolhardy Pokémon journey. Tell me, did you fall victim to a rampaging Tauros or a highway robber?"

The onlookers erupted into hearty laughter.

"No matter. I'm certain that my son would be willing to give up a little something he's outgrown. He does have such a charitable heart."

The laughter of the partygoers was still ringing in Gary's ears when a servant appeared to whisk him away to an enormous walk in closet located somewhere on the upper floor of the enormous house. His father had assured him that Watanabe Haruto was a humble man who loathed pretension and extravagant displays of wealth. Gary had asked his father twice if he was sure that his chosen outfit would be acceptable, only to be assured that Mr. Haruto would expect nothing else.

Gary wanted desperately to emerge from this closet wearing something that would allow him to slip back into the party as subtly as possible. Unfortunately, everything inside had been tailored for a fit young man in the prime of his life rather than the scrawny sixteen year old that Gary definitely looked like when he tried them on. When he finally did come out, it was with rolled up sleeves and a belt cinched so tightly that the fabric of the waistband was all bunched up beneath it.

The first person who saw him upon his reemergence was a waitress who scowled and swung her tray of cocktails away from him. The second was the woman in red, whose smile looked so delightfully amused that Gary's stomach churned. He rushed into the nearest bathroom, where his body finally provided him with an excuse to leave.

"Are you ill?" the attendant asked, as if he hadn't quite understood the meaning of the awful retching noises that Gary had just made inside the stall.

"Yeah, I think I am." Gary turned on the faucet and tried to wash up as best he could with unsteady hands. He looked up into the mirror and was actually pleased with the extreme paleness of his face.

He was significantly less pleased when he went looking for the host in order to politely excuse himself and ran into someone else instead.

"Father?"

"Well don't stand there with your mouth hanging open, boy. You look foolish enough without making a face like a Magikarp."

"I didn't know that you were coming, Father." Gary swiped what he very much hoped was a glass of ice water off a nearby tray and gulped it down.

"I would have told you if you hadn't disappointed me." His face was so stern that Gary had to look away.

"I guess I should have used the Charmander, huh?"

There was no response.

"I am going to get it back long before I get to Saffron City. I told you that I only traded for a Squirtle so that I could spend less time on training. I defeated Brock's gym on my first try, and Kyle's going to give me my Pokémon back first thing tomorrow morning. And then I'm going to evolve it into a Charmeleon just like I promi—"

"I know you lied to me, son." Roger Webb said the words loudly enough that several nearby partygoers paused the conversations they'd been having in favor of pretending not to listen. "I spoke to your grandfather as soon as I heard about your gym battle."

Gary's stomach churned for the second time that night. He opened his mouth to speak, but his father wasn't in the mood to listen.

"You made _me_ look like the liar, Gary. You damaged my relationship with the president of Silph Co." An uneasy silence fell. "Look at me, Gary."

Gary struggled to do so. His breaths were coming hard and fast.

A waitress carrying a tray of caviar-laden appetizers paused as she attempted to brush past him. "Are you quite well, sir?"

"He's fine." Roger waved her away harshly.

"I'm sorry, father," Gary finally managed to say.

The final words of the conversation were: "You should be."

He walked away, leaving Gary to fight away his tears in a too-big borrowed suit in a room full of people looking at him. A perfect show of the embarrassment he was.


	22. Chapter 5:3 - Meeting Brock

"You're absolutely sure you've never seen this man?" Misty asked, holding one of Officer Jenny's posters up to a woman who looked to be about her mother's age.

"I'm sorry. I've been living in this city since a few years after the cure was discovered, and I really do think that I've seen everybody living here at least once, but that man doesn't ring a bell."

Misty sighed. She and Ash had been walking around all afternoon in the hopes of finding someone who could identify the mysterious victim they had met on their way into the city.

"I have to think that this man you're asking about either isn't from around here or he moved out of Pewter City before I moved in," the woman commented. "There was a lot of displacement during the time of the plague, you know. I think the only family that stayed here in Pewter City from beginning to end was the gym leader's. Maybe you should talk to him after he gets off of work. Shouldn't be long now."

"The gym leader?" Ash asked, suddenly interested. "I almost forgot that I was going to battle him today! Do you think there's still time?"

"Oh, I'm sure there is if you go there straight away," the woman replied.

Ash cheered and began dashing towards the Pokémon Center, forcing Misty to jog along behind him.

"Ash, I'm all in favor of you earning some money to pay for the repair costs on my bike, but now is not the time to be challenging the gym leader!"

"Why not, Misty?" Ash asked, skidding to a stop in front of the Pokémon Center counter. "I bet Pikachu's all ready to go by now. Right, Nurse Joy?"

"Ash, you can't defeat a gym leader like Brock with just a Pikachu," Misty started to say, but Ash cut her off.

"Well, of course I'm going to use Pidgeotto, too." Ash turned back to the counter just in time to see Nurse Joy wheeling Pikachu out on a miniature stretcher. "Hey, buddy, you look great!"

"Chu," Pikachu said in a low voice.

"Ash, I'm telling you. You're not ready. If you could just listen to my advice—"

"I don't need your advice, Misty."

Misty took a step back. "Well then!"

"I'm going to get that money for your bike; you just have to trust me. I'm the one on the Pokémon journey. I know what I'm doing."

"You do, huh?" Misty put her hands on her hips. "Well, you can just go see how well you do without me then!"

And to think she had almost considered letting him borrow one of her Water Pokémon. Ash was going to regret that decision when he finally learned the truth about her. She stormed off in a huff.

***

Pikachu listened to it all with a growing feeling of disgust. He'd known all along that Ash was just waiting to use him. To throw him out into a battle where he was going to get pummeled, only minutes after he had finally had the last of his bandages removed from the last series of stunts. This was how trainers treated their Pokémon, as playthings to be run through one series of fights after another, perpetually harming and being harmed, all their lives an endless cycle of violence.

Count him out.

Pikachu flexed the muscles in his legs and paws, testing for any lingering soreness. Finding none, he smiled.

Before he could make a move, however, he felt Ash's hands wrapping around his waist.

"Not today!" Pikachu thought.

He hadn't forgotten what happened when he thought he had killed Ash. He didn't want to go through that again. So, instead of unleashing a great big Thundershock into the trainer, he gave him a nice gentle zap. A zap that made him scream. Just a little.

Pikachu dropped to the floor and took off running. He made it straight through the open door while all the other people in the lobby were stuck staring in disbelief. His feet made contact with the smooth pavement of a sidewalk, where they really gained some traction, helping him dodge left and right around the ankles of yet more unsuspecting passersby, some of whom cried out in surprise: "A Pikachu!"

A smile was spreading wide across his face. This was freedom. This was exhilaration.

"Tangela, use Bind!"

"What? No!" Pikachu cried out internally as a pair of sentient blue vines wrapped themselves around his hands and feet, causing him to crash down to the ground.

"Aha!" a girl cried out. "This one will be a big help when we get to the gym in Cerulean City. Tangela, use Sleep Powder."

The walking blue tumbleweed shambled slowly closer with a quiet moan of "gehhhl."

Pikachu squirmed, managing to wrench his front paws out of the knotted vines, but it was too late. From somewhere behind the blackness that hid the Tangela's true form, a pollen-like powder was blowing outwards. The Tangela leaned down, and, like a little kid blowing out the candles on a birthday cake, directed its attack towards Pikachu's nose and mouth.

He tried to hold his breath, but the powder only settled in the fur below his nostrils, waiting to be sucked in at the soonest opportunity.

"Wait!" Ash's voice called out from a distance. "That's my Pikachu!"

As Pikachu's mind grew drowsy, he couldn't decide whether he was glad to be rescued from the Tangela or disappointed that he couldn't try his luck with the girl trainer who seemed to be, if nothing else, a bit less stupid.

The decision hardly mattered. The vines around his back paws did indeed unravel, and he felt the warmth of Ash's hands surrounding him just as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up just as Ash was recalling a fainted Pidgeotto from a battle against... a gigantic Onix. Fantastic.

"Pikachu, you're awake!" Ash cheered. "Alright, I choose you!"

He pointed to the rocky battlefield enthusiastically.

Pikachu stared up at him like he was a senseless idiot.

"That means go out into the battle, Pikachu," Ash muttered, apparently trying not to embarrass himself in front of the other trainer.

Pikachu shook his head firmly.

Ash fell quiet for a moment, but then a look of resignation passed across his face. "Alright, then, I guess I'll just have to use—"

Pikachu leapt out onto the field. Metapod. He was going to say Metapod. He thought Ash was an idiot for sending a Pikachu out against a giant rock snake, but that was nothing compared to what could happen to Cat against a Pokémon like that one.

"Alright, that's the way to do it, Pikachu," Ash approved.

"Onix, use Tackle," Brock ordered.

The Pokémon responded with a rumbling roar. She slithered across the ground, accompanied by the screeching sound of boulders grinding against each other.

Pikachu ran away just in time for her to slam her head into the ground, but the resulting shock waves in the floor threw him off balance. The Onix's tail wrapped around him before he could escape again.

"Onix, Bind him now!"

Pikachu appreciated that this gym leader was calling out some relatively weak moves. He was certain that the Onix was capable of so much more than this, but obviously her trainer had more sense than Ash did. He knew that his Onix could kill a Pikachu like himself if she was really trying.

The Onix squeezed Pikachu with her tail. The boulders pressing into him were tough, and they had a few jutting ridges that really hurt. Luckily, though, the connecting boulders making up the tail were so much bigger than Pikachu's body that they physically couldn't move any closer together. Pikachu was definitely in a squeeze, but he would escape this fight without getting any broken ribs.

Ash gave a low growl. "Pikachu, use Thunder Shock!"

"Idiot," Pikachu thought, but he complied.

Electricity flew out in all directions, but mostly for the show. Onix turned her head and gave out a low grumble of confusion.

"You haven't raised it very well," the gym leader said. "Such a weak electric attack can't hurt Onix."

Pikachu knew very well that electric had normal effectiveness against rock, but he also knew that he was ridiculously outmatched. So he played it up a bit. The Onix continued to squeeze him, and he gave the best performance he could give of a Pokémon experiencing an increasing amount of pain.

Ash didn't seem to know what to do.

"Do you surrender?" the gym leader asked. Clearly, the kid was too dumb to know that this was even an option.

Ash's voice sounded pleasantly discouraged as he said: "I do."

The Onix set Pikachu down on the ground with a sympathetic look. Pikachu was still busy doing his oh-it-hurts-so-much routine, but he managed to shoot his opponent a brief smile by way of thanking her before she was returned.

"Are you ok, Pikachu?"

Pikachu noticed for the first time that Misty was standing on the sidelines. To her credit, she actually looked worried.

"Just make sure you take your Pokémon straight to the Pokémon Center," the gym leader said. "They'll be fine."

"Oh, I wish you had just listened to me, Ash," Misty fretted.

"Actually," Ash said, "before we go to the Pokémon Center, would you mind if we ask you about the man on this poster? He's in really bad shape, and we think you might be the only person who has a chance at identifying him so that we can find his family."

Ash unrolled the poster, but the gym leader didn't make a single move towards it. "I guess you haven't noticed my condition then."

"Condition?"

"Ash, Brock can't identify somebody by looking at a poster. Haven't you noticed? He's blind."

***

Brock was used to challengers being surprised to learn about his lack of sight. It was a condition he'd been born with, so he was well accustomed to everything that came along with it. And he wasn't bothered unless it caused people to display prejudice. He wasn't sure where these two would fall yet, but the fact that they were going out of their way to help a stranger made him hopeful about their capacity for empathy.

"Oh, I know," the challenger named Ash said, snapping his fingers. "Why don't you just come to the Pokémon Center with us?"

"I'd be happy to if I can help," Brock replied. "Come on out, Geodude."

He reached into the second slot of his Poké Ball belt, expanded the device, and gave it a light toss up into the air. The Poké Ball dinged lightly as it opened, and there was a soft smack as Geodude caught it in his rocky hand.

"Geodude," the Pokémon said as he floated back to his trainer, allowing him to gauge the distance between them through the sound growing progressively louder.

Geodude handed him the Poké Ball, which he shrank and placed back inside his belt before extending his right elbow. Geodude took hold of it, and Brock soon felt a familiar tug as the Pokémon began to lead him forward.

"Wow, that's awesome!" the challenger exclaimed.

"Ash," his female companion began to say in a reprimanding tone, but he cut her off as he plowed right ahead with his sentence.

"You have a Geodude, too?"

"Don't worry about it, miss," Brock said, turning his head to the direction her voice had come from. "It's alright to be interested in things you've never seen before. It does get a little tiring for me to answer the same questions all the time, but it would be more of a problem if he felt too awkward or ashamed to ask at all."

"Why is that?" she asked. Her voice was coming from beside him now, and footsteps from just beyond told him that the two friends were now walking along beside him.

"Because if he doesn't ask the questions, then he'll never get the answers. He won't know how to act around me, and he'll be much more likely to say or do something that I won't like just because he doesn't understand."

"Oh, I see." Her voice grew more timid. "I've never spent time around a blind person either."

"It's perfectly alright." Brock smiled. "What did you say your name was, miss?"

"Oh, I..."

"Here's the Pokémon Center," Ash announced. His footsteps clattered against the tiled floor as he ran inside.

"My name is Misty," she said, her voice soft and her breath warm against his ear.

"Of Cerulean City?"

"Please don't tell Ash just yet."

"Alright." Brock shrugged with his left shoulder. He didn't know why the youngest of the family that ran the Cerulean City gym would want to hide her identity, but he supposed it was none of his business.

It wasn't long before he felt Geodude come to a stop.

"Oh, hello, Brock, are you here to get your Onix healed?"

"That would be great, Nurse Joy, but Ash and Misty tell me there's a man here I might be able to help identify. Do you think it would be possible for me to speak with him?"

There was an uncomfortably long silence. "I'm afraid he isn't speaking to anyone right now."

"His condition is that bad?"

"I'm afraid so." He could hear the frown in her voice. "It really is urgent that we locate a family member. It goes against our normal policies, but you are the gym leader, and this is an unusual situation." 

Her voice trailed off. There were a few more seconds of silence, and then the sound of wood scraping against wood as she raised a portion of the counter in order to walk through.

"Alright, follow me."

He returned Geodude so that Nurse Joy could take his place. It was a brief walk back to the part of the Pokémon Center where human patients could be treated. The air was full of the smell of disinfectant, and the beeping of machines. Their steps sounded out a bit differently here, an indication of the larger space.

The only indication that they'd arrived, besides Nurse Joy coming to a stop, were the slow, faint breaths of someone deeply asleep.

Nurse Joy briefly relayed the story of how the man had come here, followed by a description as detailed as she could manage.

"His fingerprints have been removed?" Brock's stomach did a flip.

The resulting silence was all the response he needed.

"Have you taken a DNA sample?"

"Of course, but we usually search for medical records based on fingerprints. We don't store the full DNA sequence for our human patients, so our computers can only narrow down the results so far."

"I understand," Brock said, "but I'd like to offer you a sample of my DNA as well. Would you be able to run a test comparing mine to his?"

"Yes, we certainly could do that, but why?"

Brock reached down and gently touched the patient's arm. "I think this man might be my father."


End file.
